Patient 13
by WordDemon
Summary: What happens when you reach into a broken mind? Can you really save someone who has become so lost? Or do you risk falling into their darkness with them? Dr. James Novak will take that plunge as he tries to save Patient 13, Dean Winchester. Slash AU.
1. Angel of the Lord

My name is James Novak and I am not an Angel of the Lord.

I know that is a strange and fairly obvious thing to say. To tell you the truth if I had heard myself saying that a year ago, I'm not even sure how I would have reacted. But Patient Thirteen changed so much in such a small amount of time. Really getting to this point, being this far down the rabbit hole was all my fault and now I don't know if I can ever fix it, ever make things go back to normal. I keep having to remind myself of the truth or else I fear it will slip away from me. He has that effect, patient thirteen, that's part of why I originally had him brought to me at Ward B. He was a curiosity, something new for me to play with; an addition to my collection. I wanted to help him of course, like everyone else I had brought to me. His delusions were amazing, he stunned colleges in other hospitals and they brought him to my attention. But now I don't know, the farther I press the more lost we become.

My name is James Novak and I am a Psychiatric Doctor and Psychologist.

I specialize in delusions, even since I was in college they fascinated me; hell I can probably trace it back to high school if I really tried hard enough. But that's not the point, or is it, wait no it isn't. The point is that I work with some of the most broken, fragile and creative minds you have never had to come into contact with. Some of the most delusional individuals. You know those movies about the paranoid man who things the government is spying on him? I can do them one better I have a man on my ward that used to think the devil was talking to him. Used to being the keyword. You should see him now after Patient Thirteen's influence. Needless to say he hasn't improved. But I'm rambling again. I know I am. What I'm trying to say is that Ward B was my kingdom, I hand-selected my nurses and my orderlies. I even selected my patient's because of their delusions. When all else fails to put the mind back together properly, I am called on. Most are helped by the end of a week but there are some cases, like my thirteen patients, that require other methods of help.

I am a savior to these people, even though they are still lost inside their own minds. I've brought them from prisons, hospice, from vile excuses for asylums to my ward, in Ward B they are happier and in much better health. For some I was making progress, slow but steady progress. That is until I brought Patient Thirteen home.

My name is James Novak and My parents loved Vertigo.

At least that was the running joke I would tell when anyone ever pointed out the connections to my name. I honestly don't know what my parents were thinking although I suppose its better then what my brothers are called. And a lot better then Patient Thirteen's name for me. Honestly for a mostly self taught man, Thirteen's depth of knowledge both amazes and scares me. He knows Latin, almost fluently, is extremely well versed in all kind of lore. Some of which I have had to look up to even hope to understand what exactly he is talking about. I know from his previous records that he is also trained in hand to hand as well as armed combat, even so far as train in a variety of weaponry. But again I shouldn't be talking about him, this is about me.

My brothers, God what are their names now. Kurt, he's my older brother, is married and had two kids. Danny is my younger brother; he's halfway through college I think. I need to keep this up, remembering who I am. If I don't I doubt I will ever be able to free any of my patients from their own mind. I can see it now. At the rate this has been going I'll be patient fourteen in a few months. I'm not even sure how Thirteen would react to my constant presence. It's interesting, even though I'm almost always there almost always watching, there are times he sees me and times I swear he is looking straight through me. Almost as if I'm not even there, my parents always did say I was a bit of a wall flower.

Oh my parents, pair of wasps if you had ever seen one. Honestly I imagine they are what would have happened if the stepford people began replacing both sides of the gender fence. Course I know why there are like that, there is so much silicon and pills in them that at this point I doubt I can count them as being genetically my parents. Ha, another statement that would have sent me to the loony-bin. But its true, my mother has told me.

"We lost our passion," She said, "Once the lust and sex dried up they were stuck with each other."

Unfortunately everything that line passes through my head, I can help but think of the scene in Citizen Kane. Charles Foster Kane and his new bride are sitting across from one another at a small dinner table, basking in love. As the scene progresses their love turns to indifference, then contempt, then hate and when the scene is finally over. They are sitting at a table much larger and distancing then the one they started with. Ha random movie trivia, how Thirteen would love me right now.

My name is James Novak and I am Lost.

I have become lost within the dark woods; I have lost the true path and find myself unable to return. I am loosing myself, who I am. I feel this need, this pressing desire to go back. If I talk about it, all of it from the beginning I can hold on to myself. But I don't know whose beginning to start with. There really are so many options for me to choose. I could start at my beginning; high school, college several years building my reputation and my ward. Or I could start with Patient Thirteen's, a lovely tale of loss, heartache, violent and the eventual fall into insanity.

But I think it's probably best to start at our beginning, the day I first encountered the man who would become Patient Thirteen and complete my ward. Yes that is the place to start. With him, patient number thirteen in James Novak's happy Ward B family.

His name is Patient Thirteen and he is called Dean Winchester.

* * *

_A/N: Apologies if this sounds too disjointed, thats the effect I was going for. R&R_

_-WordDemon  
_


	2. The Doctor is IN

"Hello James or would ya prefer Dr. Novak right now?"

"Jimmy is fine, you know that."

"Oh alright sorry."

"John it's alright," A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, "we known each other close to ten years now."

"Yeah since Flecher's psychology lecture, sophomore year."

"Then relax."

"I'm really glad you agreed."

I couldn't think of a reply, so I just stood silently.

John Wesson, god how I love the man, despite his tendency to over complicates everything. Especially when its something like not wanting to get on anyone's bad side, ever. Course that is not an easy thing to do when you him, John trying not to step on anyone's toes is a lot like my dog thinking he is a little fluffy lap dog. John stood at least a foot over me, course I'm probably being kind to myself, he had played football at our college; a lineman if that gives you any clue to his size. Despite the fact he could snap me in half, he has a happy face and bright eyes; the kind of face that belonged to person who had never really experience heartache or sorrow. And now I really need to stop analyzing John cause I'm staring again. I watched him roll his shoulders and scratch is four hour old beard. That was something else I learned about the man in front of me, he shaved daily but his stubble never stayed away for very long.

"Jimmy…Earth to Jimmy." John chucked so deep I could feel it in my chest.

"Sorry, I got lost in there."

"Figured." The big man held up a surgical mask, "I was saying ya gonna wanna cover ya face."

"Why."

"Winchester, he" John paused, "just cover up ya face, it will make sense."

The elevator pinged and its doors slipped open, I stepped into the small mechanical box. I attempted to pay more attention to the task of getting the cheap surgical mask over my face then the fact that I was riding in a metal box four coffins large and attached by a cable. I tried to keep my eyes on the numbers as they blinked upward instead of the weight capacity. Trying as much as I could, I couldn't help but feel the trickle of sweat roll behind my right ear. So I'm claustrophobic, so what, man can be afraid of something. Unfortunately being a man of my profession I can't help but chastise myself for doing things that I wouldn't allow a patient to think. When the jaws of the elevator open, it exhaled the air and instantly I noticed how much cooler it was in this part of the hospital. I turned myself to talk to John but already found his outpacing me down the hall.

Luckily, the loveable behemoth noticed that I wasn't following him directly and slowed his pace. When I had fully caught up with him he flashed me a quick, typical Wesson smile and turned down a side hallway. Unlike the one we had passed through before this one lacked the number of windows the other had, the artificial lighting bleaching the color of almost everything. I say almost everything, because we reached a door guarded by a thin almost angular woman with red hair. She smiled as we approached and I could hear her buzz us through before we even go close.

"Good morning Doctor Wesson."

"Good morning Anna." John smiled, "I'm taking Doctor Novak here to see Dean Winchester."

"Oh okay then."

Before I could ask, "That was Anna Milton, good girl, pretty fresh outta nursing school. I owed her mother a favor."

Now unsurprisingly, the hallway was completely devoid of windows and life for that matter. The hallway screamed of sterilization, not the lets make sure that all the germs are gone kind of sterile but more like we fear that insanity is infectious and must contain it as much as possible. I noticed I had begun to out pace John, he his wide gait shrinking to dainty little steps that made him seem as if he was sneaking across the floor. With his normally boisterous personality subdued, I quickly noticed just how quiet this area of the hospital was. In the others you could hear people, patients, doctors, family and even the machines but here there was nothing, not even the standard intercom system. It made me nauseous; this wasn't a place of healing not really; if someone came to this hall they weren't meant to leave. This hall was a place to forget; for the world to forget about the people and for these patients to forget about the world.

John clapped his meaty paw on my shoulder and dragged me back to the door that I had passed. The look on his face was impassible and his eyes roamed my covered face, making sure I had followed his instructions. I watched my long time friend and college shed his labcoat and hang it on a hook next to the door, as I made to copy him he stopped me. Silently he fixed the coat and then pulled a keycard from his pocket; it was odd to see such technology fitted onto the older door, though I imagine a ring of keys was probably a little too much Cuckoo's nest. With a quick swipe and beeping green light, the door gave way opening into the room. John stepped in and I followed diligently, when the door closed behind me I watched the green light blink twice before turning red; we were locked in with the patient. The walls were covered in lines, misshapen and broken all in black screaming out from the eggshell colored walls; it reminded me of a cage and of being trapped with some unseen animal.

"Hey there Dean."

John's voice scared me, it wasn't his natural doctoral tone. He was causal in the way he addressed the man in the corner.

The man in the corner, Dean Winchester, the one I came here to see. More fairly the man John had wanted me to see stood up from his crouched position in front of the wall and when he did turned toward us. Brilliant green eyes flickering over me briefly before settling on John, I hadn't asked why John hadn't covered his face and instantly it became clear. The patient's eyes flashed with recognition and seemed to refocus like the lens of a camera. His lips pulled back into a smile that would have seemed almost dangerous if it wasn't for the glint of humor in his eye, I watched as several black markers fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. His hands were nearly the color of the markers and the blackness extended up his forearm, fading as they rose. His hair was short, almost cut military style but I could see the marks were his hand had failed him, cutting it shorter or longer then the rest. As strange as it is for me to admit this it was adorable and gave him this goofy appearance of just getting out of bed, not something I normally think to call my patients. He spoke and its depth surprised me.

"Dad?!"

"Yeah Dean it's me, told ya I'd be back."

Dean rushed forward, at a speed that initially caused me to flinch away but instead of the violence I predicted he wrapped John up in a hug. Not the kind you give an acquaintance or that creepy uncle who calls everyone sonny or baby but a true hug. This hug was one of relief and love, I stood their dumbfounded at the way John wrapped around the man; it was fatherly like the patient gripping him tightly was his child. As close as he was now I could see that the blackness that I thought covered his arms was writing, tiny black words formed by the felt-tipped pen. When the hug was broken, it seemed Dean's childishness went with it; the man that looked at me was all sarcasm and a smirk.

"So who is this?"

"This is Doctor James Novak, he's an old family friend he's here to help."

"So what's up doc?"

I felt my jaw tighten behind the thin paper of the mask, I hated that term. Damn Bugs Bunny, my brothers thought it was a great way to get under my skin. I prayed that my eyes didn't give away the expression of annoyance that I knew was plastered to my face. When the patient sighed and rolled his eyes I knew I was in the clear at least for now but I felt John dig his elbow into my side. Even silently I could tell that it was John's way of warning against ignoring the blond man in front of me. A nice way of saying watch it.

"Well nice talking with ya Chatty Cathy."

"Your father didn't inform me you were this," I paused, "exuberant."

"Exuber-what?" Pupils contracted quickly and brought out the fierce look that seemed more appropriate on his face, "Dad, this guy is bugging me, ain't there another way."

John patted the smaller man on his shoulder, making sure "Look Dean the doc and I are gonna try and figure a way for you to get outta here."

"Well don't let me keep you." He muttered, "It's just my ass sitting here in the loony bin, 'nough to make a guy actually go crazy.

John swiped his card and shoved me out into the hall. The minute the door was closed I ripped my surgical mask off; I could feel the veins in my forehead pumping and the socket of my jaw creak. Hell I could here my heart beat pounding away at my ears. When the larger man turned to me however all my rage deflated, his face looked hollow and I could tell that what we had just done had taken a lot out of him. Not that I could really blame him. I mean the man thought he was his father. A minute ago I wanted to shout, make him flinch at my voice, now I could barely whisper to him.

"Seriously John, what the hell was that."

"That, Jimmy, was Dean Winchester." He rubbed his eyes like he had the beginnings of a headache.

I stepped closer and hissed, "That's not good enough. That man thinks you're his father and you let him!"

"Its not that simple."

"The Hell it is!" I shouted, voices roared back from down the hall. "And what the hell was he writing on the walls?!"

"Its not that simple, well the wall part is. It's his story, his delusions. When ever he is alone he seems to need to start writing it down, but it never repeats. Every time he fills up the room, we copy it all down and repaint the walls so he can start fresh, its all with his file. It's some heavy reading. I take it you missed he 'devil's trap' too."

"What?"

"I figured. Listen Jimmy, I can't really stay and chat I have to go meet some other contacts. I just feel it might be good for you to take a long weekend and start reading up on Dean Winchester."

"But John, I…"

"No." he interrupted, "anything, any question you could wanna ask me. Is gonna be in his file or in his story. I'll have Anna bring the files down to your car."

John pulled me into a bear hug, his big hand smacking me in the back, practically breaking me in half.

"Good luck with him Jimmy, I really hope you can help him. Take care of yourself."

"You too John, be safe."

------

My baby purred happily as I pulled up into the parking garage, she was a gift from an old flame, and they had known I had a thing for classic cars. They were beautiful machines, all the old classic girls; Impala, Chevelle and even the mustang. But my baby, she was an 1976 Chevrolet Impala and I rebuilt her from almost nothing literally a busted up frame and that was about it. Now as I slipped into my spot she was big black and beautiful. I used to joke with some people that she was that way cause that's how I liked all my woman. God my sense of humor sucks, anyway. I slid a hand over to the box of papers to keep them from falling; neither John nor Anna had been kind enough to supply me with a lid. I sighed and hefted the box into my lap before getting out of the car, the good news was I didn't have to go back out tonight so I could just take these to the elevator.

"Honey I'm home."

Two minutes later I twisted my key into my apartment door, looking more like something out of an ancient tapestry; legs crossed, box on my hip, not to mention the slightly flailing hands as I cross the threshold. I'm slightly surprised I managed to pull myself in and not drop anything. Its then I notice that I have been greeted by silence. He must have fallen asleep. Lazy-ass, though I'm not really surprised I would probably sleep to if I had his life. Shucking my coat and keys I turn and shout again.

"Sasha!"

Now I have gotten the reaction I wanted. There is the sound of a heavy weight falling of the bed, a kind of 'whump' that was followed by the tread of quick footsteps. I could tell he was running now, even before I watched him slid across the floor and into the wall. The big goof sat there for a second before shaking the dizziness free before he came lumbering at me. The oversized animal came to a stop a foot away from me and sat on the floor, tail swishing back and forth like a metronome. This was Sasha, my puppy, when I was little I had always wanted a dog but my mom stood by the logic that we were all allergic and that we couldn't have one because of it. Lo and behold I'm actually not allergic. A few years ago, I'm walking home after a date that didn't quite go well and I hear this noise behind me. I turn and find this ball of fluff no bigger then a loaf of bread; he was shaking and let out a tiny playful bark.

The dog eventually followed me home. The veterinarian I took him too looked at me like I was crazy when I told him I thought the animal was a husky. Its fur pattern, blood red on the top and black as ink on his paws, made him continue to argue that it couldn't be a pure breed that it was some kind of mutt. But honestly that never bothered me much because Sasha is my kind of mutt. I leaned down and stood nose to muzzle with the large dog.

"Whose a good boy? Huh? You are! Yes you!"

Sasha barked in approval, he always was a ham.

"Okay big guy, gotta let me have some dinner and get some work done. Promise we will play soon."

I swear the dog knows English because no sooner had the word, 'promise we will play soon' left my mouth that Sasha blue eyes got large and heavy. I could swear there was a small tremble to his chin as he stared me down with his big puppy eyes. He busted this out when he wanted a treat or to sleep on the bed or really anything I knew I shouldn't let him get away with. But hey he's my baby; I'll spoil him how I wish. Just not today, today I have so heavy reading.

"Don't give me that look; if Sam Colt's eyes don't get me you have no chance."

Depressed, I watched Sasha go off; tail between his legs and flops in from of the empty couch. I follow behind him and drop the box of Dean Winchester's life on to the table and head into the kitchen to get dinner ready. I open up my cookbook and smile, it had been a gift from my mother when I graduated high school; a symbol of my new found freedom and that I was my own man. Basically she wanted me to learn how to cook for myself. Of course like most of her plans they backfired. Instead of learning to cook, I just taped takeout menus into their appropriate spots within the hardcover pages. I know it's shameful a man nearly thirty years old and I only know how to use a microwave, hell last time I tried to cook some pasta I manage to set the water on fire. Oh yes I have a gift in the kitchen. Taking my cookbook I sit down on the couch and scratch under Sasha chin, I know I found his favorite spot because his tail thumped heavily against the couch.

"So what do you want for dinner? Mexican?"

Sasha looked up at me and growled

"Okay not Mexican, so what about Chinese?"

Again my big puppy growled at me.

"Okay so how's about a pizza?"

I know it's probably not smart to base my eating habits of what my dog approves of for the evening but hey it's never steered me wrong before, why would it start now. Plus Sasha knows that he always gets a little treat of it so I figure get what's going to make us both happy. After a few minutes on the phone ordering the particulars; a medium everything pizza with extra mushrooms and no anchovies, I settled back down on the couch. Sasha placed his muzzle and paw on my thigh, his eyes shifting back and forth between the box of files and me. Sighing to myself I pulled the first paper off the pile, it was a letter from John. It was addressed to me, from today. Man always did have a flare for the dramatic.

_'James,_

_I know this is not the way you wanted things to go. Hell if I had my way I would have spent a few weeks helping prepped you for Dean Winchester. I know you have handled some pieces of work but Dean here takes the cake. He is like nothing I have ever dealt with before. I know you probably have heard that about every one of your patients on Ward B, but this is true. You know me; I don't exaggerate stuff like this, not to you, not to a friend. As far as I have been able to figure out, Dean Winchester has suffered a major psychotic break. Interestingly enough his break didn't occur until his nineteenth birthday, halfway through his first semester of College. Originally he was brought in as schizophrenic but after evaluating him, all signs of the illness vanished. However that was when the writing and the grandeur of Dean's delusions began. _

_I noticed the change the following session; he called me Dad and hugged me. Probably similar to the way he reacted when we visited and I am willing to be my reaction was originally quite similar to yours. It became clear that this Dean Winchester wasn't the same one that we checked in. I mean for all intents and purposes he was the same body but he wasn't even with us anymore. The minute he laid eyes on me that session I ceased being Dr. John Weston in his eyes. I was his father John Winchester. I suppose I should be thanking his delusions and compulsion to write it down because it made figuring everything out much easier. According to Dean's reality his mother perished in a house fire caused by a demon, sometimes referred to as The Demon. Since that point in time he, his father and his younger brother Sam have been going around the country hunting the things that go bump in the night. Assuming all has gone according to plan you will receive Dean Winchester free of the Demon, as it was my hope to eliminate him as an antagonistic source in his mind._

_Now, the reason that I had you cover up your face. When Dean meets an individual for the first time, his delusions instantly find a place for them within his reality. The prime example being that I became his father within the reality, nothing more. But if we had gone in both of our faces covered he wouldn't have even seen me, only you. That is something you have to be careful off, Dean has attacked several of the hospital staff because they were ghosts, demons, windigo, etc. _

_As I told you Dean Winchester was living a fairly normal life up until the break from reality. He comes from good adoptive parents; honestly he is one of the lucky cases considering how badly his life turned over. Remember how I said a fire killed his mother? Apparently that is true but a detail that is left out is that his younger brother Samuel died in that fire. Leaving just John and Dean Winchester in the world, the young boy probably only had a few weeks reprieve before John killed himself. The man had apparently not stopped drinking since the fire and would ramble to anyone who would listen about the demons, the ones that killed his family. It might be safe to say that Dean has inherited some of his father mental illness. _

_It wasn't until a family friend, a Missouri Mosely, came by almost four days after the shooting. She found Dean lying next to his father's body; apparently she had thought the boy was dead when she first arrived. As Ms. Mosely was left as the boy's god parent it was only a matter of time before Dean was adopted and raised by her. I have included a list of contact information in the files; Missouri is at the top of the list. Jimmy you have to remember Dean is a highly intelligent man, from the time the boy was ten he could speak latin and could recite whole bible verses in that tongue. He also had a fascination with mythologies of the world as well as some occultist traditions. Ms. Mosely, helped nature Dean's wide curiosity and I fear this has help aid in the complexity of Dean's delusions. _

_An oddity that I noticed even with the number of people who have been placed into Dean's reality,he has never really had anyone be important. Besides me._

_I know you probably have millions of questions but I can't help you with anything more then these files. _

_Good Luck,_

_John Wesson'_

Before I could pick up another of the papers there was a knock at the door. Hell before I could even sit upright, Sasha had sprinted to the front door and was barking excitedly; the pizza must be here. I got up pulling my wallet free and pushing Sasha away from the door. Last thing I needed was another place I couldn't order from because my hell-beast of a dog had attacked the delivery guy. Speaking of such a person this one wasn't one of my particular favorites. He lacked the overall charm and sexual appeal that a few of the others had. Yes I check out my pizza boys, what a single guy isn't allowed to have some lust? Pizza box in hand I walk back to the couch and flop unceremoniously, slipping Sasha a piece before starting in on it myself. I really did need to learn how to cook something for myself, when the delivery people know you by your first name you might be ordering out a little too much.

With the first of Dean's wall transcripts in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other I sighed.

"When the hell did pizza get so expensive?"

* * *

_A/N: Sasha is owned by Crimson. His dog form is owned by Kaeari. R&R_

_-WordDemon  
_


	3. Meet the Family

I hate Mondays.

I also hate bad Coffee.

Which honestly might explain why I hate Mondays, because the weekend staff never replaces the coffee instead they just keep reheating the same pot over and over till its more like paint then anything else. So that what I find myself doing in the doctors lounge, staring down at the pot of chunky coffee that bubbled on its heating plate. I can see my own reflection staring back at me; hair slightly disheveled and brown coat still covering my suit. I look tired, which makes a lot of sense since I spent the entire weekend immersed in learning about Dean Winchester's world; the complexity was astounding, the demons were especially versatile. Frighteningly so. I'm not quite sure how long I was standing there with my empty mug in my hand but eventually I could hear a pair of voice growing in pitch behind me. One of them was a woman who sound very annoyed like if her voice could weld a blade it would be tossing daggers at man speaking. Well I should be fair; he was somewhere between the top of his lungs shouting and singing but either way I couldn't have helped hearing the ridiculous song.

"It's the song that never ends,"

"Shut up"

"Yes it goes on and on my friends,"

"I said shut up!"

"They started singing it not knowing what it was,"

"I'll kill you while you sleep"

"And now they gotta keep on singing it forever just because."

"Fucking shut up!"

"It's the song that never ends."

Within seconds, that the song reached full volume as I watched as the trio come bursting through the door and into the doctor's lounge. For a moment I was confused at the appearance of three until I saw why it had only sounded like two voices. The trio in front of me consisted of Nurse Joanna Harvelle, the blonde currently sulking between the pair of men. She was a brilliant kid and I continued to try and get her to go for being a doctor, she had the drive and talent. Cause I could always use another doctor in the ward, but she refused. She always told me she was much happier working for me then she would be with me. I always appreciated that. Her cheery attitude was currently being suffocated by the singing of my Wards two orderlies.

Gabriel and Eugene Puck, identical twins and I mean that there is literally nothing that I know of that is different between the two of them. I think sometimes they wear each others name tags to see if anyone will notice the difference. Not that I have any proof that they do. Just feels like something they would do. As long as I have known them they have taken it upon themselves to lighten the mood, in there own very strange way. Sometimes they have a tendency and normally whenever I being to chastise them they switch on the charm. They become all big brown eyes and innocent pouts. I normally let them slid because, well, they bring me breakfast and I'm a sucker for breakfast foods.

"Dr. Novak!" The woman whined, "You got to make them stop it's too much."

"Oh please call it just desserts." Gabriel smirked

"Yeah, making us listen to the damn hermaphrodite the whole ride."

I watched Nurse Harvelle flush, "She is not a hermaphrodite."

"Is so."

"No."

"Well?" Gabriel nudged me in the side. "Ya gonna weigh in here Dr. Novak."

"I don't profess to know what kind of plumbing she or she may or may not have."

"Smart man." Gabriel smiled opening a box of pastries, "Donut?"

"Coffee?" Eugene filled my mug with something out of his thermos.

"Thank you boys, you can head up to the ward now.

The twins nodded in agreement and turned toward the door. When the reached it they stopped for a moment looking back at Nurse Harvelle. Both grinned too widely before winking and flicking their tongues out in a vulgar movement. Before retaliation could begin; the pair slipped out into the hall their laughter filling the room long after they were gone. Nurse Harvelle flopped down at the table; annoyance seemed to roll off of her in heavy waves. She was so disturbed by the twin's action that she could barely keep her voice even as she brought her cup of coffee to her lips.

"I hate them sometimes."

"Nurse Harvelle, you know they would stop bothering you, if you stopped giving them the satisfaction of a reaction."

"I know they just…" She wilted.

"Do you have the reports from the weekend?"

"Of course, you want to go over them."

"Yes."

Second reason I hate Mondays is oddly enough also to blame on the weekend crew. Because it is some random set of nurses that monitor my ward on Saturdays and Sundays, they don't know my patients or things to watch out for about them. This results in having to do a weekly weekend update; to basically see if and where the weekend staff screwed up. Of course they do. Often in fact, so much so that Nurse Harvelle and I have implored consequences to be placed on those in the weekend staff that allow harm to be fall the patients. Their response, fill out this sheet to assure the health and stability of your patients. It was just the hospitals way of covering its own ass so it could hang me out to dry if it so chose. Nurse Harvelle pulled out the form and began reading.

"Sam Colt"

An interesting patient, he was actually the first I started treating once I got my license. From the first time he was directed to me by his family physician I was able to tell that Sam had Obsessive compulsive disorder. What was interesting to me was that although his obsession and compulsions center on cleanliness none of the normal ways of breaking the cycle seemed to work. It quickly became abundantly clear that his OCD wasn't related to germs in the real world. It was something inside him, something he couldn't scrub clean or purge himself off. That something is infecting him and making him dirty to his very core; at least that is how Sam would describe it. Otherwise when not in the midst of an episode Sam is a fairly stable individual, the problem is we are lucky to go a few days without him having an episode.

", condition unchanged."

She checked off Sam's box before reading on.

"Gordon Walker"

Gordon is a Hemophiliac, meaning that his blood doesn't clot very well. In fact, in Gordon's case sometimes not at all but he is under medication that helps stimulate clots but of course it still take more time then the normal person for these clots to occur. Now normally this wouldn't be a problem, slap a silver medical bracelet on his wrist and send him out into the world. But unfortunately Gordon has a sexual fetish; vampirism. Yes it is exactly what you think of it as. Its sexual excitement for drinking and drawing blood, Gordon takes it one step farther by biting his various partners and drinking their blood during the sexual activity. If he cant find a partner, he will bite himself and drink his own blood a dangerous action for a man who can't clot.

", condition unchanged"

"Kubrick Stanley"

Former priest who believes he is on a mission from god to save the world. As far as I haven been able to tell he is a schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur. He's possibly one of my simplest patients, aside from Rufus Turner that is.

", condition unchanged"

"Ash Miles,"

Brilliant absent-minded scientist from MIT helped build a program that could effectively chart storm and drought patterns as well as the potential out comes of such interaction. He mentally snapped when he found out his weather tracking software was turned into a weapon guidance system by the government. His break with reality has him thinking that he is a typical redneck, mullet, Pabst blue ribbon and of course way more beat up flannel then one man should own. For all intents and purposes that is a completely different person but signs of brilliance appear every once and a while.

", condition unchanged."

"Pamela Barnes"

Local tarot card reader after an aneurism that left her blind came to actually believe herself to be a true psychic. When I confronted her she boasted the ability to predict the future, to talk to animal, to commune with the dead and an assortment of others. A majority of her prediction came true, all but one, 'an angel with suffer deeply, falling to the depths of oblivion and rise reborn with love'. After a week of observing her, I noticed that she was making her predictions based on the repeating of her schedule.

", condition unchanged"

"Bela Talbot"

A kleptomaniac, Bela was born in Ohio, though she now claims to be from a small town just outside of London as part of her delusions. When her parents died in a car accident she refused to confront the reality that she was alone and created the English accent. With the conceived notion that she had amassed a vast amount of wealth, Bela 'buys' items whenever she is feeling guilt. When she was brought in it was after a storage unit containing item's 'purchased by a wealth' something or other.

", condition unchanged."

"Tessa Grimm"

A death oriented young woman. Tessa believes that when she touches an individual they die. Her delusions began after the death of her boyfriend, she kissed him good bye and moments later he dropped dead of a heart attack. At first she was heart broken but still rational, it wasn't until she began working at the hospital that her delusions began to take on her life. She would walk into a room, touch the patient and then sometime later that person would flat line. Originally she was suspected of being an angel of death, when I evaluated her she truly doesn't understand why these death have been occurring. She covers up as much bare skin as she can to avoid touching someone.

", condition unchanged."

"Alistair"

"Nurse Harvelle," I glared her down she wasn't suppose to indulge the patients.

"Okay, Albert I. Stairs"

Former pediatrician has complete emotional apathy. In fact he bears almost has no emotional connections what so ever, the only time I have found that he elicits a response is to anything painful. He can only derive pleasure from it, which has led to the gaunt, nearly skeletal build that he has now. In sessions he is just as likely to try and pick me apart as I am trying to get inside his mind. I do know from initial admission reports that when he was found by police. He was in a sealed off area of his clinic, the description by the arresting officer was that 'he was asphyxiating himself upside down in a corset of blades'.

"Apparently he manage to get a hold of a scalpel on Saturday, he has been stitched up."

"Oh joy." I sigh and motion for her to continue

"Ellen Rohouse"

Ellen was a pleasant woman, when her daughter was only a few months old she died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. After that she started stalking around play grounds and school, taking young girls back to her home. She would dye the child's hair blond and keeping them as her own daughter. Recently she had grown attached to Nurse Harvelle because of the apparent similarity in their appearance, not to mention that her age is fairly in line with Ellen's daughter's current age if she hadn't died. I must remember to monitor the amount of time they spend together, I shouldn't allow Nurse Harvelle to indulge Ellen's delusions at least more then she has too.

", condition unchanged."

"Nick Malak"

Poor nick, I really do feel bad for him. Wife and child were murdered during a home invasion, while he was out getting milk and eggs. Instead of blaming himself for their passing he blames the voice that told him to go out. His delusions have him believing that the voice is actually the devil is talking to him. Sometimes he just whispers into Nick's ear, other times Nick has told me that the Devil appears to him and tries to make him do things. I worry for that the mental strain will cause Nick's fragile personality to erode away.

", condition unchanged."

"Meg Masters"

A case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, also known by its former names as Multiple personality Syndrome, she developed the disorder after she was sexually assaulted at a college party. The trama fractured her into two distinct halves. One half was the original Meg Masters; a good sweet family oriented young woman. The other half also referred to its self as Meg, but just Meg; this personality was violent, sarcastic, and manipulative. Meg would also fringe the original identity of Meg Masters to throw the blame away from herself. Recently in our care she has developed a third personality, a male one. It its hard to determine if this new persona developed due to her incarceration here or was it just laying behind the curtain and has just recently come out. All attempts to reintegrate the personalities together have failed leading to one other option, extinguish the Others.

"the darker meg has been more and more prevalent, otherwise no major change to condition."

"Rufus Turner"

A former marine, who instead of seeking psychiatric help he turned to alcohol to drown the dreams and the nightmares in a drunken haze. After ever several years of increasingly heavy drinking, Rufus was admitted to a detox-clinic. They were unprepared to deal with a man so with such a dependency on alcohol. He was so consumed by it that when he would being to purge the alcohol from his system his nightmares would take place in the day enveloping him in delusions. His detox would dive him over the edge if not properly handled, that was when he became on of my patients.

"He is probably a few weeks out of actually beginning released."

I took the sheet from her hands and signed my name down at the bottom, "Will be nice to finally have someone leave the ward. It's been too long."

"It has." Nurse Harvelle agreed.

With that bit of business out of the way, Nurse Harvelle and I dropped the file off at the front desk. Just like every other report like that one, it will go directly up to the chief of medicine. Robert Singer, the man practically helped built up this institution all by himself or at least would claim too. He and Dr. Sanford Ellicott had helped bring Roosevelt Springs Hospital out of the dark ages of asylums and into being one of the leading mental health providers in the country. It was actually Dr. Ellicott who had hired me nearly right on the spot. He was why the hospital flourished under his hand because he was willing to try anything new, anything that might help people. But when Ellicott had his stroke last summer, Dr. Singer became the chief of medicine in his place. One of the first things that tyrant did was put me under stricter guidelines and since then I haven't had one of my patients make a full recovery. And with my ward soon to be full, I know I'm going to get an earful before leaving today.

Ward B wasn't like any hospital floor you have ever seen. Instead of a long corridor, I had the whole thing constructed in a circle; fifteen rooms surrounding the nurse's station, one was my office the other was the bathroom and the rest were the various patient rooms. My ward used to be to hospital ICU; it provided the perfect skeleton to build the environment I wanted. Each room was individualized; the patients were allowed to pick the color of their walls, doors, bed spreads and even the kind of flooring they wanted. I had this done because a majority of Ward B's residents had been living there for at least five years now; their rooms were their homes, they used them to express themselves. When Nurse Harvelle and I arrived on the floor, Gabriel and Eugene had taken their places inside the circle island that was the Nurses stations.

"Where is Nurse Diamon?"

Gabriel looked up mouth full of donut, "Ruby is finishing up with the meds."

As if waiting to be cued in, Nurse Diamon slipped out of Sam Colt room wheeling the large metal cart in front of her. Where Nurse Harvelle was an actual blonde, it was pretty easy to see that Nurse Diamon stripped her black hair away to achieve some kind of dirty blond. She never went the whole way because she didn't want to attract the motherly attention of Ellen. Not that I can really blame her. Unlike her counter parts generally pleasant disposition, Nurse Diamon was for a lack of better words a total bitch. Swinging her slim hips back and forth the nurse sneered at the twin orderlies, shooting down their ogling with a smoldering look. Depositing my charge at the nurse's station I slipped into the safety of my office before the sharp words of the four co-workers assaulted the main area. I'm almost positive that both Gabriel and Eugene have resumed singing although it doesn't sound like 'the song that never ends' anymore. Before I can place it I reach across my desk and flipped on my turn table.

In this age of digital music I feel like most people have lost respect for the powerful sound that quality vinyl LP's can deliver in place of the connivance of those ipods. Five hundred thousand songs and all of them weak compared to the raw power that can be delivered by the actual records. Leaning back against my chair I let my eyes drift close and myself be hugged by the music, Pink Floyd, the wall, my first truly owned record. Also one of, if not my only favorite. I lost track of time and had manage to get through both side one and two before I noticed that the conversation outside of the door had changed in tone, just as I was about to come out there was a knock on the door.

"It's open." I said as I switched off the record.

Nurse Harvelle peeked her head in, "We kinda need you out here some lady has arrived with a guy. She says it's a patient transfer."

"Ah its Dean. I'm coming out."

I stepped into the main circle and couldn't help but feel a smile grace my lips. The twins were standing around a woman and a man strapped into the gurney, I could tell it was Dean but that wasn't what caught my attention. He was knocked out and strapped in as normal protocol. What I found more interesting was the woman the twin's were currently harassing. She was short maybe five feet tall, nothing extremely remarkable about her but here curly brown hair and gapped front teeth made her look extremely young. A deep crimson was working its way over her face as the twins teased her. As much as they tend to drive people up a wall I do have to admit that they are extremely entertaining when you aren't the brunt of their joke. This was one of those cases, Gabriel noticed me first and nudged his brother.

"Hello there," I extended my hand, "I'm , and you are."

"Patient transfer, Dr. Wesson couldn't make it." The woman has a lisp, "My name is Dr. Lilith Isley and yo"

"Your name is Lilith?" Eugene interrupted

The blush was back as she handed me the clipboard, "Yes, you need to sign here."

"Wow your parents must have hated you."

"Defiantly." Gabriel smiled slowly.

"I don't need this." She threw the papers at me, "and my Father loves me very much!"

As her form retreated towards the elevator, the brothers looked at each other, then at me, then down the hall and then finally high-fived each other before descending into a fit of giggles. With a motion of my hand, I called Nurse Harvelle over to me and handed her Dean's medical information. It had all his medications and she would make sure that we had everything set up; she went off to help coordinate with Nurse Diamon. Me, I began to move the gurney towards room thirteen its plain white walls announcing its vacancy I have to remind the staff to make sure they wear masks when they ask him what colors he would like. But that was a conversation for another time right now I needed to concentrate on the task at hand, moving Dean Winchester from his gurney to the bed inside the room. I unlocked the door and pushed the man into what would become his new home.

The door click shut behind me, unlike Dean old ward the only real lock was on the main door in and out of the ward.

The easiest part over, I began to unstrap Dean from the gurney. Well I would have if it wasn't for the fact that in this more natural lighting combined with the fact that he was knocked completely out gave the man a look of serenity. The only thing that really marred the image was even out cold the right corner of his lip was still pulled into a slight smirk. I couldn't chuckle at the little sign of the man's cocky nature. Starting down at his ankles, I quickly removing those straps and then moved up, freeing his head; someone had evened up his crew cut. After removing the ones across his waist I paused as he shifted uncomfortably. When he had stopped, I began to remove the strap that went across his chest. My fingers ghosted over him, barely touching as I removed the straps. I small slip and my finger brushed against his chest making a small sigh escape Dean. Curiosity took hold for a second and I repeated the action this time getting a light moan and an arched back as my rewar…what the hell! God I'm feeling up my patient.

"I need to get laid." I muttered.

Apparently either I had touched more then I should have or spoke louder then I expected because Dean stirred and for a moment his eyes fluttered open. In a panic I pulled my tie up in front of my face, hoping that the brief flash of green didn't catch my exposed face. When they closed up again I sighed and dropped the tie. I need to be more careful then that, I can't help Dean if he thinks I'm some kind of demon for him to hunt.

* * *

_A/N: Not much to really say here. So happy for the reviews though, makes a guy feel the love. R&R_

_-WordDemon  
_


	4. Converse with the Insane

"So Albert, how are we feeling today?"

I peered across my desk, thankful for the distance that the heavy wooden construction put between myself and the gaunt man in the chair. Despite, Albert's history of violent behavior towards himself or others he was unrestrained. This was because we had come to an agreement not long after he arrived one the ward. As long as he restrains his desires to harm others, I see no reason to sedate him or strap him into a chair. No matter how twisted he has become, how far from the pediatrician he has fallen, he is still a human and will be treated as such. On fortunately when I had made the deal I had left out two very special details. I never told him he couldn't harm himself or mentally attack others, both of which he seems to take great pleasure in. And sitting across from me in the hospital's deep crimson patient scrubs, Albert looked more like a specter of death then a man.

"Well I'm not sure Jimmy, how about you give me a blade and I'll show you."

"It's Dr. Novak and you know I can't do that."

"But then," A sick smile split across his skull, "how will we pass the time?"

I felt a shutter roll down my spine but before I could allow Albert to see that he had struck a nerve I composed myself. He quickly made a shrug and a sly smile that simple whisper, 'did I do that?', like a perverse Steve Urkle. Part of the reason for these meeting was so that I could get a handle on the core of Albert's problems, also I was curious of the other name he had given himself. Alistair, as far as I could tell it was just some bastardization of his original name. But that wasn't the purpose of today's meeting, Albert was here because he had managed to get his hands on a scalpel and go at himself. Now I have to sit here and ask him questions, then turn around and ask other people more question. Defiantly not the way I wanted to start my first day with Dean Winchester; the normal procedure is to bring them into my office, introduce myself and run the basic comfort question. If we were on schedule right now we would finish up with discussing the color scheme that Dean would like to have in his room.

Ha, that would go over well. Hey Dean what color would you like your room? Yellow like the demons eyes? No, I guess not. What about Red like the blood of all your monsters? Defiantly not. Green, like the corpses, ghouls, zombies and monsters you fight? Seems the more colors I come up with the less that topic seems like a good idea. Oh crap Albert is saying something. Oh wait never mind he's just trying the soulless manipulator again. Such a prick, I guess I should pay better attention.

"Albert." I bark and smile at the way Albert's shrewd eyes center on me, "How did you come by that scalpel?"

"It was a gift."

"Who, who gave you the scalpel?"

The skeletal man rolled his eyes and began to sing. "Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me; my lover stands on golden san-"

"Answer the fucking question." I snapped, I know I shouldn't let his attitude get to me.

"Oh testy testy, Doc."

I answered him with total silence.

"Fine then, Ruby gave it too me, pretty little thing. It was her gift."

Albert's face twitched and I called his bluff, "You're lying, Nurse Diamon would have done something so stupid."

"No?" The gaunt man shrugged and turned his palms out towards me, displaying the wide array of self inflicted cuts and scars. Some were old, silvery-gray and looked more like morbid tattoos; others were bright pink like neon signs of self inflicted pain. Then of course were the recent one, crimson and crosses with the black of stitches, like a ragdoll mad of flesh.

"I wouldn't have hired her if I didn't believe that."

"No I suppose you wouldn't have but then how else did I get it?"

"Albert I'm tired of this, just tell me."

If it was at all possible, the skeletal face managed to pull its thin lips into a pout, "Fine then, the scalpel did come from Ruby but Bela stole it for me though."

I let out a groan before I could catch it and the look that stretched across Albert's face was smug satisfaction, like a chess player who knew exactly how the game was going to play out. Or how Hannibal Lecter looked whenever get extracted bits of in formation from Jodi Foster's character. Ugh what's her name, oh yah, Clarices. It's that smug, content look that graced Albert's sunken bony features; like the cat that just wolfed down the fattest canary. He knew what he had done, Albert took pleasure in figuring out what the other patients phobias, compulsions, delusions and desires were; he would then of course use them to his advantage. This wasn't the first time Albert has taken advantage of Bela's kleptomania. Last time it was something far less dangerous but not much less bloody. Some how Bela has managed to sneak off the floor down to the hospitals kitchen and steal nearly three pounds of raw bloody veal. All of with Albert consumed before we even had a chance to figure it out, he so enjoyed the way it made him ill after the second pound.

"Are you angry with me Jimmy?"

I felt my jaw tighten, "Of course not. When you go would you have one of the nurses bring in Bela."

"Of course Jimmy," He began to leave my office and no sooner had he turned his back that he began to finish his song. Every impulse in me wanted to drag him back, hit him in the chair and back him tell me why he was singing that song. But I stopped myself. It wasn't important almost nothing he did was. Well it was important in the sense that if fought against everything I been trying to do. He rejects help and constantly tried to undo the progress I have made with other. I suppose his motto must be misery loves company.

Not long after my door slipped close, another individual pushed it open. Bela Talbot, she stood tall and thin, shoulders thrown back and nose pointed slightly skyward; she practically oozed self confidence but I knew her better then that by now. This part of Bela was as much a façade as the faux British accent, she was nervous and frightened by the change in schedule; really she didn't know what she had done wrong. I watched she fiddle with something tucked into the waistband of his patient scrubs, no one on Ward B was allowed pockets which made Bela's ability to steal that much more impressive. But anyway, the way her hand continued to hover in front of it made it pretty obvious she was protecting it by making a shield against my eyes.

"What is that Bela?"

She practically squeaked and slapped her hand over the item, "Nothing, I mean what is what?"

"That sheet of paper in you waist band."

"Shyte."

"What is it Bela."

She pulled the paper and looked down at it lovingly, finger caressed the edge.

"Bela?"

"It's a check from a wealthy client, I managed to procure them item he required."

"May I see the check?" I extended my hand across the table; I'm going to kick myself for this. "I can make sure it ends up deposited in the right accounts."

That seemed to put the poor woman's mind at ease and she handed over the small rectangle of paper. This wasn't the first check that Albert had fabricated to try and gather some kink of supply, normally it was something flimsy and obviously hand drawn; nothing to be taken seriously. When I turned the rectangle over I was floored, this was a paycheck, one of the kind that the hospital printed. It was filled in by hand which wasn't a common place but this had to be taken from the managerial offices upstairs. The only person who could have gotten this would actually be Bela. Albert wouldn't be cocky enough to have Bela steal a check then try and pay her with the stolen fake check. Wait, nevermind he would completely.

"You take care of the check."

"I will."

"I shall be going now?"

I nodded and watched her go. Finally a little down time. But no sooner does the thought leave my mind, my phone starts to ring I swear if I had something heavy I would just bash it to a plastic pulp. I was not in the move for what I knew was coming. It was reaching noon, which means that the paper work probably finally hit Robert Singer's desk. This meant, if I know that man and I do, he is calling to chew me out. Oh joy. With hesitance I pick up the offending machine and held it a little bit away from my face, I spoke softly.

"Dr. Novak speaking."

"I don't know what you did Jimmy but damn he is pissed."

"Alan?"

"Duh, of course it's me."

"Why are you calling me?"

"Cuz im making sure our lunch date is still on."

I felt heat against my neck, "Of course, if I'm still alive after he murders me."

"I won't hold my breath."

"So is he going to call me?"

"Nope, he wants you up here."

"Damn it. When?"

There was a beat from Alan's side, "Don't know. Guess you should come now, get it over this."

The call ended abruptly, probably because Dr. Singer had came out of his office. Grudgingly I pulled myself up out of the chair and exited my office, of course I pick the time when that the first group session of the day was going on. Twelve heads, not counting the nurses or the twins, turned and followed my progress through the round main area. Like a bunch of creepy oversized owls. I shutter and walk towards the elevator. I pause for a moment and weigh my options, I can take the screaming metal death trap up three floors or I can just mount the stairs and make him wait more then before. Opting for my own wellbeing I climbed the stairs as quickly as I could, ignoring the hot sweat that was staining my shirt. Ew great, this is why I hated gym class. Never saw the point of sweating, probably way I love yoga. Anyway I pop out into the hallway and intantly know I'm in for it.

And by it I mean trouble.

How do I know? Well first thing, Robert Singer's office door is open; which is as much a sign of the apocalypse as it is that I'm going to end up with a foot up my ass. The second major reactions, I don't feel the typical puppy love stares that normally accompany being in the presence of Alan J. Corbett. Alan was a sweet kid, pretty fresh faced from college. Kind of has that all-American look and I'm not on to lie, if I was a bit younger I would have returned his feelings. But I've taken the little chicken under my wing and I'm proud to say the boy has blossomed. Course he still hasn't worked up the courage to confess his feelings to his crush but hey all in good time. Today however, Alan's eyes are turned down towards his desk and I catch the way his eyes barely shift to meet me as I walk by his desk.

Robert Singers office reminded me of going to the principal's office in high school. Unlike the brick that formed my office, his was covered in dark wood paneling and had large bay windows; not that Robert ever opened them. Since he inherited the office from Dr. Ellicott but Robert Singer hadn't done much in the way of changing it, in fact the way he blocked out the light it was like he was ashamed of the way he became the hospital's Chef of Staff. I entered the office and was instantly assaulted with the smell of tobacco and cheap scotch in addition the loss of my vision.

I tried to find my voice, "Dr. Singer?"

"Close the door James."

Just before the door threatened to leave them both in complete darkness, an old desk lamp clicked on, casting a light green illumination over the whole room. There he was, behind the heavy wooden desk, Robert Singers face was marred with the lines of age and the gruffness of a beard. He was a man that looked older and far more experienced then his age. This a side effect of the job I imagine. In one moment he drew himself up to his full posture, eyes set on me darkly as he attempted to keep his voice even.

"So James how is everything?"

"Fine."

"Oh according to your report one of your patients managed to get a hold of some medical supplies."

"Yes he did, but-"

He interrupted me, jaw snapping at the words "And did quite a number on himself."

"Again yes, bu-"

"And I'm to understand you've taken on yet another patient." I could hear the anger building behind his teeth

"What Albert did wasn't my fault, sir. The weekend staff they don't pay as close of attention. If you would just let me hire on another staff member or doctor, I could split the load and that way some one would be here that knows how do deal with them."

"You freaking idiot!" he threw his cup against the wall, "that kind of whining may have gotten the things you wanted from Sanford but not from me."

"But sir."

"Oh no the weekend staff doesn't understand my patients, well boo-freak-who princess, time to strap on you big boy pants."

I opened my mouth to continue but he shoved words into it, "Out! Now!"

The man fumed at me I could practically see the steam pour from his nose and ears, his raged seemed to cause him to swell beneath his clothing. His chest pressed against the buttons and his thick neck bulged over both his collar and tie. I could practically feel the man, desire to get up and plant both of his feet square up my ass. But instead he just growled and waved me off. Pointing to the door as a series of murmurs slipped free. He statement was something to the effect of 'get out of my sight' or 'you're on thin ice', neither of which has me very happy.

As I exited the office and pounded down the hall I became aware of my shadow lurking behind me. Slightly taller then me with a goofy puppy-like step, I could hear my shadows bagged lunch smack against his thigh. I clucked my tongue against my teeth. With how much larger his stride was then mine; he should have overtaken me by now. I knew what that meant, something was on his mind; great another lunch wasted at the Alan J. Corbett whine-a-thon. I really do like the kid, but sometimes I think he takes advantage of my oh so easy-going nature. Okay so he doesn't whine, he just has a tendency to get stuck on his crush in our conversations and never get off of him. Ha three-way action, kinky. I quickly shake the thought from my head, I mean he's like a broken record; yeah that's what I had meant.

"So, how'd it go?" his voice is softer, no the usual exuberance I'm used too.

"Well," I turn my head and smile, "you didn't happen to notice the twin sets of wheel marks going up my ass did you?"

He scoffed, "that, not cool. You shouldn't make fun of the handicapped."

"He's handicapable Alan."

"I'm pretty sure Dr. Singer is pretty handicapable of kicking your ass."

As we stepped on to the elevator I pause, cocking my head to the side; I had taken to calling this my curious puppy look. It was a look I learned from Sasha, it was one that he was always giving me it when someone or something new enters the apartment. Alan saw the look and instantly both his voice and laughed died in his throat to be replaced by a flush that creeped quickly across his skin. With his mouth quickly drying up on him, he attempted to speak. "What?"

"Your ass maybe, but I'm scrappy."

This time Alan couldn't help but snort. "James he's like twice your size."

"Still scrappy."

I'll spare you the rest of the friendly bickering and the conversation over lunch. Although I do have to talk about the food, the hospital food is well; sterile. Not exactly what I would call gourmet cuisine but if slather enough mustard on the sandwiches that are actually pretty bearable. But of course Alan's lunch always seems to completely eclipse anything that the cooks in the hospital kitchen could hope to accomplish. Typically, Alan's lunch consisted of a dagwood pita with a hard boiled egg and bottle of sweet tea. For those of you actually unaware of what a dagwood is, pita or otherwise, it is a sandwich loaded down with more deli meats then one could really think possible. Layers of ham, roast beef, turkey piled higher and higher with lettuces as wells as condiments. And the best part of the whole ordeal is that Alan always gives me a bite, even offered to make me lunch so I didn't have to drown my food in condiments. But I normally refused, it was too domestic not that I wouldn't love it, I just have to be wary of the boys sometimes less then forward advances. So now, back in the office I sit and wait for the knock that I know is to come.

Before that time arrives I make sure I have my surgical mask pulled on tightly, when I returned from lunch I informed the staff of that little rule. Using some less then accurate details about what would happen if their faces were exposed. I was speaking more toward Gabriel and Eugene, should the twins decide they didn't want to follow my instructions, which sometimes is more the rule then the exception with them. But I think the prospect of having your face shredded by the fingernails and teeth of our newest patient is enough to discourage their disobedience.

And there it was.

The knock.

I composed my self and steeled my nerves before speaking.

"Its unlocked Dean, please come in."

* * *

_A/N: Okay so finally getting to more Dean interaction. R&R_

_-WordDemon  
_


	5. A Bro and A Sexy Doc

Something was off with Dean Winchester as he entered my office, or at least off from our initial encounter. Although the face of calmness and the frozen jaw of the fearless warrior were still firmly set, now it was nothing more then a mask; the way he's eyes moved over everything, bouncing like he was watching a tennis match. He was scrambling. His brain trying to piece together what had happened to him in whatever way his mind could come up with. I took a moment to study the man, Dean Winchester as he stood before me. Obviously he had only been woken recently, sleep clung to his hair and shirt making them ruffled and sloppy looking. He still hadn't been changed from the teal pajamas of John Wesson's ward into the crimson scrubs that fill the hospital, he also hadn't been medicate yet and was starting to withdraw from his previous medications. I could tell he was from the way he was already starting to scratching his arm raw. Great, just my luck, he is withdrawing from the medication keeping his more violent tendency in check as I'm going to try and have a real world conversation with him. God must really hate me.

"Mr. Winchester," I called to the man, catching his attention, "good to see you're up an about."

I watched the green eyes focus for a minute. Again like a lens of a high quality camera.

"Do you want to talk a seat? We have some things we need to discuss."

"You?" His eyes snapped into focus and his brow furrowed, "You! Where the hell am I? Where is my father?! You were s'pose to help him get me out."

"Mr. Winchester if you would just sit down, we can talk about this."

"Listen here chuckles, I ain't Mr. Winchester." He growled as he flopped into the chair his sneer in place, "its Dean."

"Okay Dean."

"Doc?"

"Yes?"

"Nevermind."

"Okay, well listen we have some ground rules to lay down. First- "

"Look doc."

I grunted loudly, "It's Dr. Novak."

"Whatever I'm not trying to mess you up, but I'm not gonna play your little game. Not till you give me some answers about my father."

"Just let me do my job please." I would have normally wouldn't have let myself some across as weak because it was not good for reassuring the patients. However, I figured that with Dean's dominating personality it would but much easier to make I seem as if I was submitting to him. Hey, I spent years in college getting my degrees and doctorate; you can be surprised when I bust out reverse psychology. It can't be helped if Dean falls for it.

"Fine you can at least tell me where the hell I am?"

"You're in Ward B of Roosevelt Spring Hospital."

"Sounds charming." Dean seemed fascinated by his nails.

"Of course this is only part of the hospital, as your mental state improves you will be allowed onto other areas of the grounds. They are beautiful..."

"Look I'll play along with your game Doc, but we are taking turns. You tell me things, I tell you things. Quid pro quo, Clarice." Dean's stoic face cracked for a moment and he attempted to pull off Hannibal Lector's signature hiss.

I cocked an eyebrow slowly, "Well then, where would you like to start?"

"I want to know where my Dad is."

What could I tell him that he would believe, nothing seemed to come to my mind. So, I was silent.

"Well?"

"He's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

I opened my mouth and then paused for a second before speaking, "As you said Dean, Quid pro quo. I answered you now it's my turn."

Dean huffed and crossed his arms like spoiled child, "Fine."

"What color would you like your room painted?"

"Lime green." He snapped "My turn? What do you mean that he's gone?"

"The demon, the one with the yellow eyes. You're father made a deal to save you."

"Save me?"

"Yes, the demon gained the upper hand, holding you between life and death. He, John, your father exchanged his own life for your own." I lied, spinning details of Dean's delusion back on himself.

Don't look so surprised that lying comes so easily to me, I'm a psychiatrist. Is that to say that your own shrinks are lying to you? No I would say that they are not, but I consider myself in a special circumstance. Don't give me that look. I am completely in a special situation. You try dealing with thirteen mentally distance, delusional patients and se if you can actual get away with having a completely truthful conversation. It's not easy. It is a lot like trying to teach a crack addicted monkey with ADD how do slow dance. Want to prove me wrong. Go for it. The poor man seemed to flounder for a moment, panic, fear, remorse all seemed to roll across Dean's face before his eyes steeled to one emotion. A mask of pure unbridled anger.

"You!" He shot up and lunged swiftly towards me, "You, you're working with the demon! We were fine until my Dad brought you!"

"Dean."

"He trusted you!"

"Dean pleas-"

"Christo!" The blond man roared and I couldn't help but flinch from the ferocity of Dean's actions.

Dean paused and searched my face desperately before he fell, it was as if his body lost the ability to support his own weight, he crumpled back down in to the chair. He looked so defeated. Like a kid that had just been told that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth fairy were all fake; all at once. It was this devastated look. I walked around my desk and reached to place my hand on his shoulder. But I faltered and my fingers hovered like dumb vulture circling a dying beast. I wanted to touch him, to give him the human contact that he so desperately needed but I couldn't. Deep down inside my body wouldn't let me. It frustrated me more then anything had ever before, this was like waiting to open a present on Christmas day. The gift just a small distance from my hands but still unable to know its contents, Dean was that present and I couldn't break the inch of air that my palm floated on.

A knock.

This knock wasn't expected, in fact a knock like was never suppose to occur and it broke my trance. My fingers fell and glanced off of Dean shoulder more like the touch of a ghost then the comforting warmth I had been trying to deliver. I attempted to mutter some kind of excuse and apology but I know it came out muddled. Leaving the defeated man in his chair I hustled to the door and opening it a crack. I left my foot behind the door to hold it in place in case it was who I thought it may be. Even with less then three inches of space I was confronted with shaggy brown hair and brown puppy eyes. If it wasn't for the fact that all my weight was leaned into the door, Samuel Colt would have just come busting into the session.

"Dr. Novak!" His voice even whined like a little puppy.

"We have talked about this, you cant just barge in when I'm with another patient."

"But please Dr. Novak."

"Not now!"

"But I was drawing with Nurse Ruby and I noticed this black spot on my shirt."

With every word I tired to shove the door back into its frame, "This really isn't the time I am with another patient, you know."

"But then I tried to wipe it off, but the black spot got bigger and it got on my hands. Then I tried to wash it off and it only spread up my arms and it made a mess of the sink." The rest of the large man's words slipped away into a mix of light sobs and depressed murmuring

I had grown to understand the different little nuances to the darkness that is Sam Colt's emotional spectrum. That isn't to say that Sam isn't a happy man, god knows he is one of the most honestly cheerful patients on the entire floor. But when his emotions eventually take the turn for the negative, it helps to know which one of his many bleak moods he is currently in. Right now he is some combination of depressed and defeated which I haven't seen since sine the poor boy lost his shoe. He flashed me the puppy dog eyes and I relented for a moment. Cursing myself for letting him get to me, again.

"Okay ill come find you after this meeting is over, how does that sound Sam?"

Dean's head and voice perked up, "Sam? Sammy?

"Who's in there with you ?"

"Sammy?!" Dean was up walking towards me, his steps small and unsure.

Now, understand I am by no means a large man, hell I'm sure Sam Colt has about fifty pounds on me. At least fifty. Seriously the boy had a bright future in football until is obsessive compulsive disorder manifested. So what I want you to understand is that when I held him out the first time it was more or less a lucky fluke. Because when that man wants to come into a room, it's very hard to keep him out. Which is exactly how I ended up on my ass, Sam shoved his way through and landed me on floor; watching as the Dean and Sam stepped into each other. For a moment I was going to try and direct Dean's attention because the last thing I needed was one patient trying to kill another. Well I didn't need another patient that did that, Albert was bad enough on his own. I could only imagine was Dean was capable though his delusions. Dean eyes shifted and focused again before he did something I did not expect, Dean Winchester wrapped his arms around the larger man and pulled him in. Dean was hugging this stranger; Sam's eyes looked at me pleading for help.

Dean broke the hug and looked up, "Whoa, easy, tiger. Don't hurt me now Sam."

Sam was silent and fidgeted.

"Come one Sammy. It's me, your brother, Dean?"

"Dean?" Sam said slowly tasting the name in confusions which caused Dean to laugh.

"Okay I get it, look I'm sorry for the things I said man."

To Sam's credit he rolled with it well, "Its okay man, I barely remember it."

"Yeah? I though you were gonna punch me; I mean you stormed out in a big huff."

The taller man was silent again, lips pulled slightly down in concentration.

"Bitch."

Sam's mouth moved to a full blown pout, "What're you calling me a Bitch for?"

"You're supposed to say jerk."

"What?"

"I say bitch, you say jerk." Dean's began to speak with his hands, "It's like our pet names for each other,"

"Why? Are we gay" Sam's brown eyes grew wide this panic, "I mean…We arn't together are we?"

"Jesus man, nevermind, did you hit your head or something."

Dean patted Sam on the back and turned to walk the pair of them out of my office before I cleared my throat. When my voice reached their ears their postures switched. Dean went from relaxed to rod ridged and Sam Colt's broader back and shoulders shifted down and slumped in relief. Dean turned slowly and looked at me. I spoke evenly but attempted to not give him any wiggle room. But as I was slowly beginning to learn Dean was much smarter and slicker then he appeared. Of course I had read this in John's notes but if I'm going to be honest I almost never trust the previous diagnosis and notes of the previous physician. A tactic which has never really leads me astray. But I'm getting off topic, Dean is standing their like an expectant child who hand was caught in the cookie trap; waiting for the punishment that was sure to come. I cleared my throat again and spoke.

"We are not finished yet Dean, you agreed to answer the few questions I have."

"Ha, well I am Doc."

"Dean Winchester, I will sedate you and leave you alone with your dreams."

His voice was near a whisper when he spoke, "Okay doc."

He took a moment before he made any sort of movement, he was composing himself. Dean's cocky smile perfectly in place as he turned completely towards me, his hand gripping Sam's shoulder and pulling the younger man back through the doorway with him. Sam half heartedly tried to pull himself free of the shorter man's grip but found himself unable to. Dean's face seemed flash frozen in a grin that reminded me all too much of the Cheshire Cat; if he could pull it any farther the top of his head was sure to just fly away unhinged. Stifling a laugh I raised my hand and stopped the pair in their trek toward the chairs.

"Sam doesn't need to be here."

Dean chuckled, "I don't mind Doc he's my brother after all."

"I legally can't allow him to-"

"Doc, I get it your covering your own ass." Dean's shit-eating grin indeed stretched, "But Sammy and I will be out of here in a week or two. So does it really matter?"

"No I don't suppose it does, if Mr Col…" I caught me near mistake and coughed "I mean Winchester doesn't mind joining you that is."

Sam tried to protest but Dean cut him off, "Course not plus we have to catch up."

"Well then let's get to it."

"Fine."

I sighed softly and flipped through the pages clipped to my board "So since we got most of the introductions out of the way. I guess we can start with the schedules. Every day you with either have group therapy or a secondary therapy that I determine at a later date. For example Sam here takes group ever Monday, Wednesday and Friday, then goes off with a few of the others for art therapy. The session normally will take place just after lunch."

Dean's hand shot up like a little kid; waving around quickly.

"Yes Dean?"

"Are we gonna be done with them before Dr. Sexy MD comes on?" He blurted out.

"What?!"

I'm not sure which of us said it first, but all I know was that both mine and Sam's jaw seemed to be scraping the floor at dean's words. He eyed us, our reaction steeling his face and jaw line for a moments. It brought back the predator look that I had seen when I first met him. Green eyes were as serious as if he could me I was dying of some incurable illness, his lips pulled tight almost daring me to question what he had just said. I'm pretty sure that Sam wanted to leave the office as quickly as possible. He shifted nervously from one ass cheek to the other. Like the kid in the car ride that should have peed after they finished eating but swore they didn't have to. In another setting I would have laughed, hell I would have been nearly on the ground gasping for breath. It was Sam who spoke first.

"Seriously?"

"What? It's a good show."

"Um…kay maybe you should think about that gay thing."

A punch.

An insult.

A bloodied nose or lip.

I'm not quiet sure what I was expecting. Okay so I was expecting Dean to become aggressive and violent, a pretty typical response. He is a typically hyper-masculine male and according to John's notes; quite the master of seduction. So by everything I had been trained to look for, Dean Winchester should have defended his manhood. Instead it looked more like he wanted to shrink away into his the back of the chair. I pale blush burned the tops of his cheeks. I made a note to go back through all of the material that John had given me and see if there was anything that could be construed as homoerotic tendencies. Course I have to make sure to take a neutral position because if I go in hoping to find items of a homosexual nature, then I will obviously find them. One must not make theories with out facts or else they will twist the facts to fit the theory instead of vice versa. Mainly I can't go in hoping to find evidence that he plays for my team. Because it's a conflict of interests, yea right, it has nothing to so with how wrong the whole idea is.

"Doc," Dean's voice is soft almost silent, "can I go now?"

I nodded slowly watching both of the men walk out of the office. There was an interesting way they began to leave, they walked stride for stride for a moment looking like to gunslingers walking off into the sunset after some John Wayne movie. But then it shifted, even though Sam was still keeping a cautious distant between himself and Dean but the way their steps has become more like the siblings that Dean claimed them to be. I managed to catch a few words of a conversation before my door cut them off completely. It was Sam who was trying to talk to the man who had claimed him as brother. But Dean was stonewalling him with stoic finality.

"Hey, look I'm sorry man, I didn't mean it."

"…"

What Sam said next made me smile, "Jerk."

Dean's voice was barely heard before the door sliced into the sound. But even in the short syllables I could here the grin stretching the blond man's lips.

"Bitch."

* * *

_A/N: Apologies for the short chapter. I just couldn't make it any longer. Also classes are starting back up, So a busy college boy I will be. So R&R_

_-WordDemon  
_


	6. Hell is Other People

We'll be out of here in no time.

That was Dean Winchester had told me, that all of this procedure wouldn't matter. I wonder if he has told John the same thing when he first arrived at that hospital. I suppose it would be easy to call John but I don't think it really matters. The first several days after Dean's arrival were like nothing different had occurred at all. Hell by weeks end I found myself co-signing the discharge papers for Rufus Turner. Of course I still recommending he take up AA meeting and I gave him my number in case he ever found himself in a crisis but all it all I was happy to see him go; I know that the rest of my staff was probably just as excited as I was. Even though it meant that a new patient twelve would be arriving within the next several weeks, which was how I worked; when a number was cycled out and discharged a new patient would replace them. But first the room had to be stripped bare for when a new arrival was located, at the same time I ordered Dean's room to be painted lime green as he requested. Yes I know he was being a dick. So he gets what is coming to him.

But the middle of Dean's second week he has been exposed to almost everyone within Ward B, from my staff to the other patients. Luckily I had still managed to contain the amount of faces that Dean saw. So far Sam was the only one to not require a face covering. Some interesting things were beginning to happen to Samuel by this point, on of the most interesting ones was the abandonment of his name. He no longer answered to Sam Colt, as if the name had been nothing more then a part to play, he was Sam Winchester. Dean's younger brother. Interestingly enough Sam would constantly ask Dean about their family and former life. Which the elder man seemed willing and happy to give, still under some kind of assumption that Sam had lost his memory some how. According to Dean he thought maybe a Jinn or something similar had whipped his mind clean and put Sam Colt in his place. Another interesting thing that happened was that Sam's disorders shifted, the unclean element inside him was given a name. Demon Blood. Both morbid and somehow fitting; this was an addition of Sam's own into Dean's reality, not vice versa.

Dean himself had begun to pick up on several things within the workings of the Ward. An example of this was an almost instantaneous dislike of Nurse Ruby. Something I lectured him on, but knew that the twins and Nurse Harvelle were probably encouraging. A definite reason for the hatred seemed to stem from the fact that she would come between Dean and his brother about three times a week. Because otherwise the pair was as thick as thieves, they spent an insane amount of time in each others rooms. So much in fact I was beginning to question the idea of allowing the rooms to have no locks whatsoever.

Near the end of the second week, things began to unravel. Why? Because Gabriel and Eugene were bored, of course.

I don't know if it was because they ran out of coffee or if they couldn't find a deck of card but they were bored. After working with them for as long as I have, you come to learn then those two allow boredom to slip into their mind they tend to do things that really make you want to smack them. Hard. How ever hard you are thinking of double it. That hard. So anyway, the twins still weren't convinced that Dean posed a threat because Sam saw his face and was fine. So despite my constant warnings, Gabriel shed his mask and walked into the Deans room; moments later he returned unharmed. He claimed that the man had had no reaction. Eugene mimicked his brother, leaving his own surgical mask behind when he entered. Two seconds later he came back, a frown marring his features. Apparently within Dean's delusions there wasn't room for twins to exist because he had viewed them as one person. The Puck Twin's being their ridiculous selves wanted to see what would happen if they both went in at the same time.

The result?

Dean chasing after them around the ward with what appeared to be broken off portion of the mop handle. He was howling something about a damn trickster. Pealing through Dean's notes later I found out that a trickster was a demi-god that enjoyed literally killer pranks and has a nasty sweet tooth. Ha. Honestly couldn't be closer to fitting for those little bastards. But there was a downside to the event, many of the people, patients and nurses together, hadn't had there faces covered. So according to Dean Winchester this is the current make up of the floor.

Samuel Colt is Sam Winchester

Nurse Harvelle and Ellen Rohouse are now Ellen and Jo Harvelle. Hunters, according to Dean, like himself and Sam. Ellen has taken to the interestingly maternal role quite easily and I have instructed Nurse Harvelle to play along with the delusion for now.

Ash Miles apparently is a staple at the "Road House", a bar run by the Harvelles. Imagine the justice league headquarters only in the middle of the USA and for drunken hunters. So basically pictured a rundown place that any Clint Eastwood Character would call his watering hole, it has some kind of charm. Or maybe that's woodrot.

Meg Master is apparently a Demon.

Oh yea and apparently Bela Talbot is the same the same thing she is in her own mind, a master thief selling items off to the highest bidder. Either that is a massive coincidence or like Sam and his 'demon blood' and addition they made. I an unsure but like Sam an interesting twist has occurred. Bela no longer just collects rare items; the items are now mystical and or supernatural in origin. This has frustrated Albert Stair to no end because he must now come up with an elaborate tale before Bela will steal and item for him.

By the time Monday rolled around, exhausted, I waited for Nurse Harvelle's status report. Of course I wasn't prepared to find Dr. Singer waiting outside of my ward; rage was etching his features and his hands were tightening into sizable pissed off balls. From the stack of papers and files that graced his lap I could tell something bad had happened, bad enough that he wasn't waiting for me to find out. He only pounced on me like this with really bad news or a board meeting. I hoped to god it's a staff meeting. I'm never that lucky. He launched into how I have allowed one of the biggest travesties to occur. How because of my taking on an extremely unstable patient and not properly informing the weekend staff, Dean Winchester organized and attack on the weekend staff member, collapsing the lunch of one woman and nearly killing another. Apparently he had gone in my locked office, taken the silver fountain tip pen I got when I graduated and used it to stab the monsters. Robert had lock installed over night to keep him from going after any of the patients and to keep him from send Samuel Colt after any of them.

As he rolled away he had informed me "Staff meeting next week"

I took nearly the whole week to repair the damage that Dean had caused. He had seen nearly everyone's face during his assault on the staff members only myself and the two nurse remained outside of his grasp. I really hated to do it, but my hand was forced. I began Dean on a cocktail of more powerful antipsychotics and a mild sedative to dull his functions making him less of a threat. An unintended side effect of the new mix was that his mind became disorganized. He couldn't identify anyone, real or fictional. He was a vacant staring statue in group therapy; the most heart breaking part was how Sam reacted to the change. He seemed desperate to bring his brother back, not his friend or the man who claims relation, his brother; I couldn't go a single day without him asking for help. Simply trying to appease his endless puppy dog eyes I agreed to bring him in and see what I could do.

Of course I couldn't really do anything but just the fact that I agreed to help seemed to calm the younger man down. I had to come in late that Thursday, not because I wanted to but because I had to drag poor Sasha to the vet. He wasn't exactly happy with the cone, but the dork couldn't leave his hot spots alone. When I arrived the group was in the middle of therapy, Nurse Harvelle waved me over but I shook my head; it wasn't healthy to interrupt therapy like that. So I leaned against the nurse's station and observed silently. Sometimes that's the best thing someone can do.

Watch.

I noticed something in the air, a faint smell that didn't seem to make sense over the nasal numbing cleaners. Copper. Tendrils of the smell floated through the air like the fingers of some horny drunk chick that no one really want to dance with. It was the smell that you could practically taste; every inhale seemed to coat my tongue in the metallic flavor. I turned around and looked in the empty space of the nurse's station, nothing to cause that smell. When I turned back around Nurse Harvelle was waving to me again and it wasn't until I went to wave back that I noticed what she was doing. She was trying to get my attention on to one of the patients. I quickly walked towards the group and instantly saw what was happening; the whole front of Dean's shirt was stained with blood and the pool was quickly expanding.

"Come with me Dean." I slipped my hand under Dean's arm and felt the warm stickiness of his blood. "Nurse Diamon, help me get him to his room."

The woman nodded and Sam tried to get up with her. I didn't have time to deal with his family issues right now; Dean had lost a lot of blood. IN two minutes we managed to get him to my office, I needed to look at his wounds now. Behind my mask, my breath was ragged with every draw in it collapsed against my face and every exhale it billowed out like a sail. I wanted him to say something, make a joke about my breathing. But this wasn't the Dean Winchester I had admitted, his smirk was gone, his skin was pale and the light in his green eyes had long since grown dim. This was a zombie wearing Dean's handsome face.

"Mr. Winchester, would you remove your shirt please." Nurse Diamon snapped, bedside manor wasn't her strong suit. "In the trash can please."

Dean stood there blank eye and bleeding. I wanted to cry, it was so horrible the blood was beginning to pool down to his pants. With careful hands, I took a pair of suture scissors and sliced the front of the blooding shirt in half. When the damage underneath was finally displayed I heard Nurse Diamon gag behind me. Dean's chest and stomach looked like a patchwork of skin. Hundreds of thousands of slices and cuts; each one held closed by rudimentary cross stitching. Half of the fresher cuts had pulled their stitches loose with out the shirt to absorb the blood Dean was quickly becoming a waterfall of crimson fluids.

"Nurse Diamon."

She gasped again when she turned, "Yes Doctor."

"Get a wheel chair and have someone call the OR."

"Yes."

She was gone and back faster then I had really anticipated. I helped lower the stupefied man into the wheel chair, he's eyes seemed to flicker with pain for a moment when I helped him down into the chair. Oh God. How didn't I figure it out sooner, Dean wasn't just confused and lost within a fog; he physically couldn't acknowledge anyone. God damn it. As I wheeled him towards the elevator, flanked by Gabriel and Eugene, I caught the gaze of Sam Colt and several other patients. Ellen's maternal instinct flared up in her and she pulled the tearful oversized man into her and let Sam on her shoulder. But that wasn't the patient that caught my attention.

A skeletal grin and lightly stained finger tips.

The drop in the elevator was one of the longest moments in my life. Dean's head began to nod back and forth; it was bobbing like a child falling a sleep in class. He was slipping. The elevator pinged and I thrust myself and Dean into the throngs of the OR prep room. He was taken from the chair and laid out on the operating table. I could hear the shock in people's voices as they saw the damage and tried to answer their questions as best as I could. No he didn't do this to himself, I wasn't sure who did, and he's a universal donor O negative blood. I made the being scrubbing in when one of the nurses tried to stop me, I shrugged her off and then she tried to tell me I couldn't come. I told her off just as the surgeon walked in, he must have heard me.

"That's fine by me, I could uses all the help I can get." The surgeon said solemnly.

I sighed, "Thank you."

"Doctor…"

"Merlot and yes like the wine."

It wasn't in long into the surgery that I figured out why exactly he had welcomed the extra hands. Dr. Merlot wasn't just fixing up the stitched that had ripped, although those were the first he was repairing. When those were done, he claimed that there should be limited scaring. I looked up at the digital clock for a second and realized we had been in this room for almost two hours. My concentration was broken when all the sudden

Flatline.

There was nothing scarier then that long, endless screech.

"Fuck," Dr. Merlot roared, "Get a crash cart over here! Give me 200."

"200 hundred, charging."

When the machine pinged, he pressed the paddles down "Clear!"

Nothing. Just more of the empty screech filled the operating room. Dr. Merlot repeated the action for 360 and even 500 but it was to no avail. Acting on impulse, I pushed the nurse with the compression bag out of the way. I ripped my mask off and pressed my lips to his. Not like that you pervert. I started CPR, I wasn't going to give up. The flatline had become like a mocking little voice that was driving my actions. I'm not sure how long I was compressing his chest or how many times that my lips had pressed to his but Dr. Merlot pulled on my shoulder and stopped me.

"Listen he's gone. Let me call it."

"Fine" I felt tears being to build in my eyes

I turned and looked back as Dr. Merlot spoke, "Time of death, twelve thirty two-"

A gasp deep and powerful came out of Dean's lips and his green eyes popped open and wide; it was like his soul was thrust back into his body roughly. Life suddenly returned to all his features, he looked like when I first saw him. A steady pulse returned to his body and relaxed into the table, his eyelids slipped closed. He looked peaceful like that. Of course I'm overlooking the blood and the numerous open wounds. Every one was flustered and I nearly wanted to faint but I smiled down at Dean Winchester, a man stubborn enough to fight off the Grim Reaper and come back.

His eyes fluttered for a moment and a word, like a sigh or a pray, escaped from his lips.

"Castiel"

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about the delay. Hopefully this makes up for it. Dr. Merlot isn't actually anyone from Supernatural. As always, please Read and Review.  
_

_-WordDemon  
_


	7. La Petite Mort

You know, I haven never broken a bone. Not one. Heck I think the only times that anyone in my family was in the hospital was when my mother gave birth. Course that is assuming that ancient bat does give birth. Before you get all offended that I am disrespecting my mother. She was never what I would call a loving woman. I mean she didn't hit me or my brothers but she wasn't exactly the big open kind. There was no love; she was more concerned with how we reflected on her. Probably why we are a family of doctors and lawyers, so you can imagine me focusing on clinical physiology rather then setting up a couch went over well. Holidays are a load of fun. Just in case you were wondering. But anyway, without any major hospital visits in my life its hard to compare to the guilty ache in my chest.

Dean was laid down to in the hospital bed like some anonymous loved one, gaze wrapping from up high on his chest to down past the tops of his hip bones. He seemed too at peace in my mind for what just happened. He had been tortured in a hospital, under my care. I wasn't sure what was bothering me more. The fact that he had been attacked so brutally, the fact that he couldn't call out for help because of the mix of medication I gave him. Or if it was because someone had touched my Dean?

Wait. What?

My Dean where the hell had that sentiment come from. He wasn't my Dean, I mean everyone in the ward was my responsibility. Sam Colt was my Sam, Ellen was my Ellen, Tessa was my Tessa; poor girl really freaked out when I had came back up two pairs of rubber gloves and he kept saying to me that she could fix it. But why when I have known and helped all these other does my noise not get that venomous edge. Why don't I sound like a possessive lover. Why did I not hear Dr. Merlot walk into the room, this was the first time I had really gotten a look at him. He was classically attractive; think the statue of David in the flesh with dark brown hair. He was speaking to me and looked up at him; it was obvious I hadn't been paying attention. With a smile and an attempt at humor in his voice, he repeated himself.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Huh?"

His hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed softly, "I mean if I didn't know better I would say your family"

"It's my fault" I cried out before I could stop myself.

"What"

"the meds I put him on, they like locked him in his own mind. I only figured it out before of the busted stitches"

"Look I know its tough but you can't just sit here."

I felt the venom in my voice, "You kicking me out?"

"No, but I was gonna grab a bite to eat."Dr. Merlot raised his hand off out me like he had been stung, "I though you might want to come with me."

"Can I grab a shower?"

"Just don't take too long."

The walk towards the men's changing room wasn't exactly my proudest moment. I don't even know why I agreed or even suggested the shower. Well actually I know why I suggested it, I just needed to give myself sometime to come up with a more suitable excuses. I hated the changing room showers; they always brought me back to high school. I wasn't exactly what you would call the star athlete, hell I can't believe I even made a blip on the radar. But I know why I did; I was a target, the extremely skinny guy with the big doe eyes who looked like a strong breeze could not me over. Of course I was picked on I mean hell you could seem most of my bones, I was bird chested and no matter what I did I stayed that scrawny little guy.

Scarecrow.

A name I got my second day of gym class. He's all skin and bones, they had laughed and I'm not really sure who had came up with the nickname but it wasn't long until every one. And I mean everyone, even my older brothers, started referring to me by the nickname. IT got so bad at one point I even here some teachers talking about me with each other and they used that damn nickname. So for freshman year up until junior year I was Scarecrow my school, hell my town's unofficial mocking mascot. My parents though, they couldn't be prouder because suddenly I was popular everyone seemed to know me. Still no one wanted to date the Scarecrow and I was okay with that.

"Damn it." I muttered to myself as I looked around the changing room.

I always forgot that the hospital decided a few years back to convert a large portion of the empty wall space into mirror. I was never really sure of the reasoning for that, some small part of me chuckled at the idea of some other doctor or nurse wanting to easily scope out the bodies of his fellow co-workers. Scoffing at the idea, I slowly shucked my shirt; my eyes focused on my reflection in the mirror. It wasn't often that I had a full length mirror or even wanted to look at a mirror. I'm not anything truly special to look at I know that. I mean I know I'm not exactly scarecrow anymore but hey lets face it I'm no George Clooney. Still I allowed my eyes to drink me in clinically.

I started with my face, slowly inspecting everything from the tips the unruly mane that tawny hair to the critical jaw line with less then a ghosting of stubble. But that wasn't what caught my attention, on my own face I kept going back to my eyes, a watery blue they seemed almost too large for my head. I knew why, I had spent the last several hours on the verge of tears the result begin the big pool that filled my face. Before the water works could begin I went lower. Puberty had really helped me out I'm not going to lie, I was able to a just enough muscle mass over the years to give my upper body I slight v-shape. Like my chin before my stomach had a small dusting of hair the ran from my belly button to the wait of my pants but in this light the light colored hairs were barely visible.

"I look so young."

I said it more to myself then anything and it true, the only way I'm going to stop getting carded at like every turn if it I either go bald or gray sometime soon. But baring that unforeseen and depressing possibility I was going to continue to be that guy that ever relationship I've ever had has said, god I love you ass. Dropping my pants I turned slightly in the mirror so that I could actually take a look. Now I'm not normally this vain but when the mood strikes me. Anyway I have been I suppose fairly blessed back there because it's for the most part two perfect spheres something that most of my ex-lovers and ex-boyfriends find extremely attractive. For me it doesn't do anything. I'm not exactly a guy that likes to bend it over and take it, if we are going to be completely honest. I mean god does it feel good but afterward I'm normally left with a pain in my ass and an emptiness deep in the pit of my stomach.

But it's not like I can really convince someone to let me take the lead.

Ugh what's a nice way of saying this?

Well

I mean

What I'm trying to say is

I'm well off

Oh fuck it

I have a tyrannosaurus prick.

I'm sure most people say that or trying to make themselves seem bigger but this like some guy trying to convince the girl he's with that his six inches is really a foot long. I been more or less put at a sexual disadvantage because of it. I first became truly aware of this fact when I was in my senior year of high school. This is of course pairing up with the discovery that I was gay. My school decided that due to some out breaks of skin infections like staph, everyone that used the gym facilities had to shower afterward. I had become fairly comfortable in my skin so I wasn't at the list bit worried about what was going to be people's reactions. Hell as I had said puberty had been nice to me in the end and I had come to except Scarecrow as some weird term of endearment. So anyway I watched as several of the football players stripped and just throwing the towels over their shoulders before they swaggered into the communal shower.

For those unaware of what exactly it means to swagger. It is to walk shoulders back, chest out to nearly the state of looking ridiculous that it doesn't actually right. But anyway I decided to follow their lead. Not swaggering I mean but throwing the towel over my shoulder. I should have noticed that there was something wrong when the locker room seemed to grow as silent as a grave. What would eventually happen was when most people had left the locker room and shower one of the football players walked back in. I think he was a tight end and he was defiantly afraid of become a wide receiver. Anyway, the football player walked into the shower and took the head next to mind when the sounds outside the shower died the large man reached over and began to kneed and stroke my length.

I was shocked back into the reality of where I was right now with a simple thought. I was standing in the middle of a men's changing room, in the place where I work, with a guy waiting for me and I'm sporting a monstrous tent in my boxers.

Sighing heavily I grabbed on of the hospital issue towels stalking towards the shower. Hopping that no one was going to come in and notice me walking around with a three ring circus in my boxers. Depositing my boxers and towel on one of the benches inside the shower I got a momentary chuckle at the pattern on the cloth. It was a gag pair that had gotten for a birthday. It featured small pairs of angels doing an array of perverse sexual deed to one another. Stepping into the hot water I let it pound down around my shoulders and back for a moment, eyes closed in a moment of total bliss. I could have stayed like that forever until a thought bubbled up into my head.

'Castiel'

The word formed in Dean Winchesters voice. It was pleading, begging in a desperate need for release. I could almost here the whine that should have accompanied it. The instinctual, animalistic plea to be pleasured, to be sated and full; I'm not sure why but the idea of this man, this Castiel making Dean speak like that made my blood boil. Its funny isn't it. The man might not even exist but the way he said that name, like a lover was being teased towards the brink over and over, it made me wanted to punch something. Then suddenly Dean's desperate plea changed or I at least made it change in my mind. He called my name. Not Dr. Novak or James. Dean Winchester was whining 'Jimmy' in my mind. There in the pounding hot water of the shower I created and ghost of him. This image was something bare and carnal.

The look in Dean's eyes as his calloused fingers of one hand wound their way around the back of my head, while the other took a trip south was total lust. The life and sparkle that normally flickered in the orbs was gone, replaced by the flame of my own needs and passions. Dean's lips touched mind but I could feel nothing, his tongue parted my teeth but I couldn't taste him. His palm caressed my length but no pleasure came from it. He was a vision nothing more.

"Beg" I barked to the emptiness.

The figment began to beg his needs how much he wanted to feel me inside him how he needed it. I could here my own breath growing thick with lust, it came out it ragged huffs. My hands defended along my body on stopping at my chest the other going all the way down. As I quickly worked myself into a frenzy my figment's pleas became more an more despite. The unassuming voice I had given it was replaced by the drawing cowboy attitude that was Dean's own. But the need remained the same. Then Dean's voice, husky and full of the wanting that I myself was feeling, said four words before he was taken away by my climax.

'I want only you'

"Dean!" I half shouted and half whimpered as pleasure wracked my body, nearly taking my knees out from under me.

As the last lingering evidence of my climax washed down the drain I turned off the shower and quickly wrapped the itchy white towel around my waist before stepping out of the communal shower and into the changing area. I was no more then two steps out of the shower then I nearly walked head long into a grinning body. Slim and possibly even more boyish looking then me, the Cheshire grin shrank for a moment as I processed what had happened. Alan's eyes sparked and I could tell that his tongue wanted to mock me some how. Or at least question me and I destroyed any hope of silencing him when my mouth got ahead of me as I walked to my locker.

"How long have you been out here?"

"Long enough to know you're extremely vocal." Alan chuckled.

"Oh." I sighed as I hung up my towel to get dressed.

"I gotta imagine Dean's a very lucky man to get you in the sack."

"Alan," I tried to force down the growl that was threatening to rise up, "I'm not a piece of meat to ogle at. So what it going to take to keep you silence about this?"

"I don't understand, it's not like you're the first guy to beat it in the shower," Alan winked and then his eyes grew wide. "Its not is. Please for the love of well everything, Dr. Novak. James. Jimmy please tell me that you weren't just thinking about your patient Dean."

I knew my blush was gonna give me away, "So what's it going take."

"Go out with me this weekend."

I mumbled something intangible even to me. I'm not sure what Alan thought I said but a moment later I felt his body close to mind and his breath grazed against my ear. I could almost feel his smile as he whispered to me. For a few seconds I was surrounded by his presence and his scent, by the time I managed to force myself to look up. My young friend vanished leaving me with his words and feeling the need for acting like an ass. These emotions were followed by embarrassment at what had happened in the shower. A moment of weakness. I been thinking about him all day anyway, it shouldn't be that surprising that managed to slip into my mind. A single moment of weakness is just that a single moment, something to happen once and never again.

Right?

* * *

_A/N: I figured since everyone has been so nice, I'd give em something nice back. As always, please Read and Review.  
_

_-WordDemon  
_


	8. The Dating Game

When I finally managed to pull on my clothes again and stepped into the hallway, I had to fight not to sharply inhale. After getting my blood pumping like that the even moderately temperate air of the hallway made my skin seize up and break out in a layer of goose bumps. It's like when you step out into the cold of winter air for a few minutes, when you return to the heat of you home; you skin feels like a hundred tiny pin had been roughly hammered into your feet. That was the feeling that washed over my body for only a moment. When I collected myself and prayed the guilt that was plaguing me would vanish, I also begged god to let my delayed stay go by unnoticed.

But guess what

No Such luck. Dr. Merlot was leaned up against the wall his eyes unfixed in the way the normally signals being lost within ones own head. Trust me when you were with people so mentally self involved, you quickly begin to pick up on the subtle clues. The glassy eyes, the vacant nearly whimsical way that one of the corners of his mouth turned up. As my feet brought me closer to the tall drink of medical water, deep eyes shifted toward me. The twin orbs lit up with good humor right above his wolfish grin of perfect teeth. I could practically here the response of 'Better to eat you with my dear' and had to fight to repress the urge to shutter.

"What took you so long?"

"Huh?"

"I said what took you so long," He spoke, all savvy and charm "I sent that Alan kid in to make sure you didn't ditch me."

I felt the blush rushing up my face, "Sorry I guess I kind of lost track of time under the hot water."

"I hear that especially when I'm not paying for it."

"So where are we going."

"Up to you, I'm hungry I don't really care where we go."

"Fun." I drawled my mood instantly darkening.

"Come on smile, we can take my car and get you mind off of other things."

As weird as it sounds I didn't want my mind off of other things, I wanted to be back in that shower. I wanted with all my body to resurrect the specter from my mind, the vision of Dean Winchester but I wanted more then that. I wanted to take the pale semi-unconscious body and run my fingers across it, to map every subtle in curve and inch of his creaming flesh. My concentration was broken when he lead me to his car; it was a little dead sports car, some kind of import not even American made, my opinion of him plummeted sharply. I'm not normally the person to judge but it kind of my opinion that when someone buys a car like this one of two things are being shown off.

Number one, the man has a very narrow taste in cars so he goes with what gives the appearance of 'Well look at the big important doctor'.

Number two, the man is compensating for something.

These two rules are almost always right, but I really don't plan on getting familiar enough with Dr. Merlot to find out. Which reminds me, honestly, what the hell this guys first name is anyway. I think its something Jacob, Edward, Cedric, Captain Jack Sparrow or something equally as amusing as highly amusing as those would be I doubt that is his name. With nothing to talk about we both slip into some form of an uncomfortable silence, it was uncomfortable like a furry coat that was two sizes too small. Honestly I've always wanted to find someone to brave those uncomfortable moments with and even make them something to look forward to. Seriously though why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable? I think that's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence. But that defiantly wasn't something Dr. Merlot was going to offer me any time soon.

I was dimly aware of the movement of the cars around us, hell I was barely aware that we had left the hospital parking lot; so when we pulled up along side of the road and into a new parking lot. It was one of those tiny little places, you know the kind; the ones that look like a total dive on the outside. It said Ma'ma Mia Pizzeria on the side but I wouldn't be surprised to find an oversized singing swordfish in the bathroom.

Like a gentleman he opened my car door and then rushed forward to usher me through the front door. It was like diving headlong into an ink well, disorientation came first then as that cleared Once inside I'm not going lie I was pretty impressed when my vision adjusted to the dim lighting. The inside of the building looked like something ripped from Italy; everything was rich dark wood with this feel of being home. Red candles sat fat on the white table clothes, giving individual mood lighting to each place setting. I could feel the heat from the classic brick pizza oven and was about to speak as a little plump woman rushed over. Her hair was pulled up into a graying bun and her warm green eyes danced with her voice

"Mr. Christopher! So good to see you."

"Mama Notte, how are you."

"Good always good, who is this?" She paused and observed me critically. "No girl this time?"

"Mama Notte this is Dr. James Novak, this is more business then pleasure." I could have sworn I heard him finish with saying, 'This time.'

"Ah, well come. We get you both a seat."

"Thank you Mama."

The tiny woman smiled warmly and led us deeper into the heart of the little slice of the Italian world; her pleasant robust size was kind of hard to miss as it moved between the tables with her hips nearly knocking the tables over. When Mama Notte was finally satisfied wit the table she gestured for us to sit; she eagerly began to rattle off the food and wine selections. With each passing sentence I felt my stomach growl a little more. Eventually she grew silent and asked what we might want to eat and before I could speak, Christopher stated that we just wanted two orders of chicken parmesan and to keep the beer flowing. With a curt nod, the small motherly woman departed and let us slip once again into greatly uncomfortable silence.

"So Castiel."

"What?" I stuttered over being called that.

"Castiel, it was the word he said, do you have any idea what it means?"

"Oh, no I don't."

"Well I have an idea," Dr. Merlot, Christopher, smiled wolfishly, "its Hebrew, the name, Castiel I mean."

"Hebrew?" I muttered softly, more to my self then the man across from me. I didn't even think John had known that Dean knew any Hebrew. Another thing to the list of shit Dean Winchester seems to know that no one expected, honestly it should be retitled as 'The Ever Growing List of Random Skills that Dean Winchester Seems to Pull Out of His Ass' because honestly it seems like ever time I go back through the notes or listen to recording I find out some extra skill that I was unaware of before. Unfortunately some of the skills can't be questioned because there is the possibility that he actual does have that skill set. I was broken out of my thoughts as he spoke again.

"Apparently it means my cover is God."

"My cover is God? What the hell does that mean?"

"Hey now you're the psychologist here not me. Anyway let order some food, we are suppose to be getting your mind off of him after all."

I nodded slowly and tired to do what he said, I tried to put some mental distance between myself and Dean Winchester. But the name, Castiel, it wouldn't leave my head. Who was he to Dean, why was he important enough to be the first word that escaped Dean's lips. My blood boiled and at the same time it chilled suddenly. Maybe there was something in the notes I had missed, if Castiel was truly important it would show up in the transcripts of records. Something would have to point me in the right direction. I would have to be trying to figure out what the hell it all meant. I nodded again, giving it as some answer to Dr. Merlot's tale; I know I'm being a bad guest but even I sat my mind was in two place.

One was with Dean Winchester

And the other was on this weekend with Alan.

-----

It was early in the evening and by the pounding on my door, Alan had figured out how to get into the building without me having to direct him in. Smart Kid. That's why I love him. So i passed down the hall towards the front door, Sasha's heavy lolling steps followed me closely behind. Pausing for a minute I checked out my own reflections. I had selected a plain white button down and a set of clean khakis. I looked good and I don't mean that in an overly cocky way; with one final check in the mirror I brushed a stray bit of hair back into place before open the door. As Alan slipped in he was met with a mass of big freaky husky.

"Hey buddy, you've gotten so big." Alan scratched the oversized pup under his chin, "You remember me?"

Sasha gave a bark in affirmation before becoming satisfied with the attention he was being given flopped down on the floor. Alan chuckled softly as he stood up and straightened his clothes, looking over me with the eye of an artist the young man gave out a bit of a sigh. Reaching out, he grabbed the sleeve of my shirt between two fingers before speaking.

"Jesus James what are you wearing?"

"Alan."

"I said were something nice." He glared at me a light hearted way.

I sighed feeling a blush grow up my neck, "This is something nice."

"Yeah something you'd wear to church or work, you need something else."

"I don't have anything else."

"I'm sure you do come on."

With an exasperated sigh, the lanky young man gripped my wrist and dragged me back into my apartment and into the bedroom. My bedroom to be exact. It isn't exactly what I call an oasis and hell I know it won't even make the cover of Good Housekeeping. I mean books rising on either bedside table like tiki's and the mounds of dirty socks shoved off into a far corner; even my bed looked unkempt. Suddenly, Alan thrust himself against me, his boney hip nearly catching me in the crotch and drawled in a mock of Scarlet O'hara and the southern bells.

"Oh you know how often I thought about being here, in this room, with you."

"Alan." I whined, cursing the sound.

"Alright, alright where are your clothes anyway."

I point to the closet.

"Okay first thing is first, you well not leave this apartment wearing khakis or one of those stuff oxford button downs."

"But…"

"Two, we will attempt to do something with your hair other then just combing it over to the side."

"Um…

"Three, that damn trench coat is staying here."

I smiled and cocked an eyebrow, "You know you're kind of sexy when you get all demanding like this."

Alan quickly grew flustered and red-faced as he turned towards the closet. What? Oh you know what don't judge me, Alan is the one that had asked me out on a date. Now he is picking out what I'm going to wear I feel I am entitled to make the poor kid blush. It's kind of endearing actually to see that I could have this effect on him. Watching his back slowly tighten up as he went through my closet was almost perfect. What would have taken it to the next level would have been if I could have seen his face as he took in the rather small, unimpressive stock of clothing that I had.

Just when I thought he was given up Alan's voice proclaimed victory and came back with two items in his arms. One was a pair of black dress pants, something I had bought for a wedding but never really got around to using it. More because I never went to the wedding, yes I'm a coward. I'm not here to impress you. I was okay with those because from what I remember I looked good in them when I had bought them. But the other item in his hand made me instantly protest.

"Hell no Alan, hell no."

He grinned in almost a manic fashion. The shirt in his hand was pure white; it shimmered and shifted like a bit of fog instead of a cloth. I remember getting this, I was giving this by an ex; he thought I needed to spice up my wardrobe that I was too plain. So he had bought this shirt for Christmas. It was something more like he would wear then what I would have really wanted to be seen it. Before I could protest further, Alan shot me a look and I grudgingly accepted the clothing. I quickly changed trying to ignore the joking cat call that slipped free from the younger man's lips. When I started to button it closed another set of hands reached out and began adjusting my buttons.

"Try it like this."

Alan muttered as he shifted the buttons. When he finished he thrust me out in front of the mirror; the shirt clung tight and semitransparent around my torso. It looked like I had been drenched in a bucket of water and I couldn't help but feel self conscious and tried in vain to cover the lower gap in the shirt that showed off my stomach. Alan stepped up behind me and whistled appreciatively, before I could ask he turned me around and I could see the back of the shirt. There, just barely visible against the white of the shirt was a silver pattern, reaching out from the collar and down the back was a set of wings like a tribal tattoo. Alan grinned at me and I could feel a blush move into my cheeks.

"Are your ready to go Mr. Novak." He asked.

"Doctor."

Alan laughed so hard, "Excuses me are you ready to go Dr. Novak."

"Lead the way." He smiled back at him until my phone began to ring. Picking the offending piece of technology I flipped oven the lid and was confronted by two words in a message. They were so simple but they still caused my heart to leap into my throat. Two words, less then eight words and plans instantly fell to the wayside. I turned and showed the message to Alan.

'He's awake'

Even as the poor boys face fell I felt the words slip out of my mouth, "How about a rain check?"

"It's okay I was just hoping to make Ed jealous." A shy smile played on his face, "but I'll hold you too that."

"Deal."

-----

I don't think I had even driven so quickly I'm sure I did run that last red light but there wasn't much I could do about it now. I stalked quickly through the parking lot, I could feel the clouds growing heavier over head just waiting for the right moment to dump their load. I chuckled softly to myself envisioning phallic clouds dangling over head, shaking the thoughts free from my mind I slipped into the hospital flashing my idea to the security guard. If I had been more concerned with my surrounding then getting to Dean I would have noticed the look that guard was giving me. A short trip up the stairs and a moment at the nurses station to grab a mask and I was outside the room containing the injured man.

When I stepped into the room, green eyes instantly focused one me, "Jesus Doc, what are you wearing?"

It wasn't until Dean's words reach my ears that it dawned on me that I hadn't changed out of the clothes that Alan had picked out for me. A blush moved into my ears and Dean's eyes moved slowly over my body. A small twitch flickered in the blonde's eyes and at the corners of his mouth. For a moment I was tongue tied by the appraising look I was getting from the man in the bed, I tried to speak.

"Well…um...Dean I want to ask you something."

"Shoot Doc."

"Does Castiel mean anything to you.

The bandaged patient grew flush and he looked like he wanted to get away to go anywhere but being in this room with me right now. After a moment a Dean muttered something unintelligible and shifted the blanket down exposing his bandaged body. But that wasn't what I noticed, what caught my attention was on his shoulder blazing bright pink and glossy like a burn. It was in the shape of a hand, not large or small hell it could have been my hand. That was where I gripped him when Dr. Merlot had pulled me off. Maybe that was it; it was probably just an allergic reacting, he must have a latex allergy. I cleared my throat and attempted to ignore how thick my tongue felt.

"What did you say?"

"I said," Dean's voice was barely over a whisper, "I know that name."

"Who is he?"

Distant, that what I noticed when Dean spoke, "He's the one who gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition."

"Dean, I don't understand what you talking about. Who is he."

"Castiel" The blonde smiled knowingly.

"I figured that much out."

"He is an Angel of the Lord."

I couldn't stop myself before the words spilled out, "Dean here's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Doc, is you have no faith. "

I swore I could hear a pair of great wings beating the air as lightning crashed around outside and the storm finally opened up. It was all very dramatic and if I'm going to be honest was a fairly upsetting scene. I turned half way around, expecting this angel to appear. I pictured a pair of big white wings, long flowing blonde hair and one big ass sword ready to hack me to pieces for my disbelief. When I realized I was being silly I laughed, it was hollow and cold it seemed to break my fear and catch Dean's focus. This new development, I should see just how far it went; so I probed further.

"Right, so why would an angel rescue you from Hell?

"What's the matter? You don't think I deserved to be saved?"

I was silent, he had caught me, and with one sentence he had silenced me. Of course I though he deserved to be saved but Dean didn't even realize what he needed to be saved from.. It didn't matter what I thought of his angel. His Castiel wasn't much more then his delusional mind trying to rationalize the pain that Albert had dragged him through. Being completely locked within your own mind, unable to do much more then suffer through every little bit of violence that was laid into him. That would be hell. For anybody, for everybody. Dean noticed my hesitance and so he spoke up over the growing storm that was pounding the side of the hospital.

"Careful doc, you should show him some respect. He dragged me out of hell; I'm betting he can throw you in."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I'm an ass but trust me. Please Read and Review.  
_

_-WordDemon  
_


	9. Expelliarmus

"This is Anna Milton, may I ask who is calling?"

Have you ever noticed that when you call someone no matter who you are actually calling, their voice surprises you? It's like those moments when you left on hold just a tad too long and it starts playing a song you know. And well you can't help but find yourself grooving along with the song a bit then suddenly the cut in and you stumble to get back on to your regular train of though.

What?

Just me?

"Hello sir?" The young woman's voice cut through my monologue.

"This is Doctor Novak I was wondering if Doctor Wesson was around."

There was a cluck of tongue against teeth, "Dr. Wesson?"

"Yes Dr. John Wesson?"

"Sir I don't know how to tell you this but the only Dr. John Wesson we have on record is a patient."

I swear you could have slapped me with a mackerel right then and it would have seemed, two maybe three times as normal to the news that just entered my mind. Seriously take a step back and think about it. You could get a still living fish out from the mid-Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico, haul it up onto your shoulder like Babe Ruth and swing for the fences. And THAT would make more sense then THIS

"What!" I try to keep my voice as steady as I could, "How is that possible."

"Well sir," Funny how I could almost hear the hair toss, "about two months ago he suffered a mental break down."

"Oh?"

"Is there anything else I can help you with sir?"

I needed to talk to someone about this, I know! "Could you connect me to his attending doctor?"

"Unfortunately I can't right now, they are unavailable."

"They?" I felt the word slip out

John was so bad that he needed to attending?

Seriously what happened to the man? For some reason the idea of John, with his big all most happy go lucky personality, doing a mental one-eighty sent a chill down my spine. I mean he has been normal, well as normal as anyone working in out profession is.

"Doctor Zachariah Adler and Doctor Mary Cambell."

"Can you tell me would I have more luck getting in contact with them?"

There was a soft silence that breached the phone line and for a moment I thought that she had hung up on me. I was about to redial the number but then four words passed before the thud of a disconnected call.

"When can you visit?"

***

You know as much as I enough my work. And as much as I love helping people and trust me that why I got into this field. Believe me I do. Most days I can tolerate when one of my more volatile patients decides to have a melt down, it's to be expected after all. They are only people. But then again there are moments when I really want to just a pair of homemade ice picks and just lobotomize the ones that drive me up a wall.

"Dr. Novak?"

This would be one of those moment.

"Yes Meg."

"May I come in?"

Even before I look up from my paperwork I know exactly what she is gonna be doing. Hands clasped together gently, shifting back and forth on her feet like a little school girl. She's going to somehow manage to get a 'skirt' of some kind and it going to be up mid thigh almost to the point that Britney spears would be embarrassed. My eyes flicker up.

Yep that's what she's doing.

Although I got to admit the biting her nail and leaning against the doorframe are new.

I smile and gesture to a chair, "Please take a seat; what do you want to talk about?"

I suppose I would explain a little bit about dealing with Meg Masters. With the rest of my patients I only really have to deal with one fairly consistent level because they only have one person rolling around in their head. With Meg, she has many levels to her crazy but it goes farther then just her other personalities. Imagine it more like a scale of unhinged that she slides up and down.

Near the bottom we have Glenn Close when she was in that movie with the fuck load of puppies. Yeah it's crazy as hell but in almost a cute and fun kinda way.

At the top of the list is more like Sharron Stone in that movie where she flashed every one of those cops her beaver and then turns out to be a manipulative psycho. You think I'm kidding about the second one, I have burned eye balls that can prove her carpet doesn't match her drapes.

Please for the love of god don't ask me what color she is rocking below deck.

"The Winchester boys." She said firmly but sweetly.

"What about them?"

"Well you see, I feel they are making it difficult for the rest of the group."

"How so?"

"Well Alistair never attacked anyone before Dean arrived." Again her voice and tone are almost so sick I fear for diabetes. "And Tessa has gotten so much worse, fashioning long gloves and items to keep her from touching others. They are should be removed."

"I'm still not sure I follow you?"

"They are poison, especially that Dean I've seen the way he's been eyeing me like an animal after its prey. Plus those things Jumbotron is doing behind closed doors, makes even my skin crawl."

Jumbotron? That's a new one although I doubt it's a Dean Winchester new one, he has the really odd habit of coming up with nicknames for Sam that are both a little degrading and sweet in an almost gay kind of way. Why does that fact make the hairs on the back of my neck rise up. Damn it James you can not be defensives and crushing on one of your patients. Nor can you be allowed to think there is a homosexual relationship going on between to patient.

No matter how delicious a pair they might make.

Okay that's it I need to get laid!

"Okay Meg, I will look into it."

"You better Doctor, your ward is spilling out of your control." Meg's darkened expression slipped back to the cotton candy queen, "Walk me back to my room?"

"Of course."

She linked her arm in mine like she was some kind of a southern bell being lead back home after a long midnight stroll. Honestly just the heat rolling off of her was enough to make my skin wanna just heave off and go crawl away. As we passed by the group therapy, Dean shot her a glare of anger and distrust. She shoved me away and dived on a tray of scalpels, she came up with a handful in each to make wolverine nervous.

She voice was darkened and full of venom, "I'm sick of this you spineless shit I'll get rid of this little worm myself."

I didn't even notice as two identical blurs rushed past me.

"We got her doc," Gabe shouted snagging Meg's right arm, "get a sedatives or something."

Eugene growled as he grabbed the other, "Maybe you can just knock her out with a bed pan."

"Preferably a used one!" Both brothers suppressed giggles.

I moved quickly towards the Nurses station, the ward quickly gathering towards the incident. What I hadn't noticed when I rushed off was Dean stalked toward Meg, jaw firmly set and passion flaring up in his eyes. It happened when I was digging through the drawers and cabinets trying to figure out their filing system. It didn't take long but it didn't matter because Dean's voice boomed over the din of the chaos.

_"ego expello vos , atrum phasmatis , tergum in ingluvies of oblivio." _

That was Latin. Oh god, what was he doing? This can't possibly end well, to deranged patients in a circle both already looking like they are going to claw each others eyes out. Seriously you cant write this kind of story. I tired to rush back to stop this but found the other patients of the ward had sealed me out. Fricken Judas' the lot of them.

_"ego iacio vos ex is somes , licentia is sospes. ego defaeco is vas of vita. extrico vestri malum ex is animus. labefactum vestri claws ex is viscus. malum parvulus of diabolus recedo , vestri presentia est a vomica quibus ego animadverto opportunus ut rememdium. ego to order vos , obduco ex is universitas ut unus of vestri bat volatilis abbas may is take vos violenter in suus occupo. ego precor vox of lux lucis jacio vos in obscurum." _

I'm so fired its not even funny.

_"peto abyssus."_

Meg thrashed against the twins; each one of Dean's words seemed to be rocking her like a punch to the gut. Within the chaos and noise I caught something impossible. Meg's clear and sharp eyes glossed over like someone had poured ink into them. The moment I saw it the darkness was gone. I reached Dean and tried to stop him but he shoved me off.

Then Dean shouted the final words and as they left his mouth.

_"ego expello vos , atrum phasmatis , tergum in ingluvies of oblivio"_

Meg's body slumped to ground, eyes closed. Her breathing like she was asleep and her slow draw of air was the only sounds that filled the silent ward. What in the name of Jesus tap dancing Christ was that. I may be in over my head I think.

Fuck.

I give dean a looked that I hope looks stern and pissed off But im sure there is a twist of awe in their somewhere. In fact I know there is the moment he opens his mouth again. A devilish smile danced in his eyes

"Not for nothing Doc, but they last time someone looked at me like that I got laid."

***

I noticed her right away, I mean I maybe almost as gay as a three dollar bill but still to not be impressed by her would make me blind. Tender curls of long blond hair and blue eyes that would have almost seemed like they belonged on bambi would have been striking enough. Hell so would the miles of legs that filled her stride. But what caught me was something behind her face and looks, a command and a power, one that gave me the oddest hint of that former Governor of Alaska.

No I don't mean she seems like she ask a crazy large family or that she claimed to be able to see distant countries from her house.

This woman is a hunter.

"Dr. Novak I presume?"

She smiled and shook my hand with a grip that most of my male colleagues wouldn't be able to make in their own fantasies. I smiled back and figured formality was probably not required.

"Please call me James."

"Mary."

"So James," She spun on her heels and instantly swept me into a brisk walk, "what was it that you needed to speak about?"

"Well your patient John Wesson?"

She flinched for a moment, "Yes what about him?"

"Is that Doctor Wesson?"

"Yes, he was a doctor with our staff."

"What happened," I tired to get in front of her, I have a hard time talk to anyone who won't look me in the eyes." I mean when I took Dean Winchester he seemed find."

"Oh you're that Dr. Novak!" I swear she looked like she won the lotto.

As the elevator pinging I couldn't help but let out a rough laugh, "That Dr. Novak? You've had that many contact you?"

"No, I'm sorry it's just a relief to talk to you."

"And why is that?"

"You need to come with me we have a lot to talk about"

With that the doors of the elevator slipped closed and a fair portion of our conversation vanished within the endless ramblings of my brain trying to reason out all the far more likely ways that I was likely to die then in some freak elevator accident. Number one, I could be struck by lightning. Number two, I could be attacked by a shark. Number Three, I could be struck by lightning and then attack by a shark.

What? It could happen, somehow.

***

I had to leave to visit Doctor Cambell in a few hours but I wanted to see if Meg was alright, more specifically I wanted to know if Dean had done any lasting harm to her. Because that was the last thing I needed was Robert Singer having another reason to crawl up my ass and pull a hunk of it out. The Masters were major contributors to the hospital and the last thing we needed was Vlad Masters' out for blood.

When blue eyed flickered open for a moment I figured maybe I could try speaking to her.

"Good morning Meg."

Her eyes snapped open so violently that she looked like she was going to push right through the mattress to the floor. She shrieked at me, "Where am I?!"

"You're in the hospital, can you tell me the last thing you remember Meg?"

Tears began to roll down her face and her voice came out in broken sobs, "Oh god, I can't hear them! They're gone!"

"Who is gone Meg?"

"The voices, my demons." She smiled through her tears.

* * *

_A/N: If anyone is curious on the actual translation of the chant: _

_"i banish you, dark spirit, back into the maw of oblivion. i cast you out of this body, leave it unharmed. i purify this vessel of life. disentangle your evil from this soul. loosen your claws from this flesh. evil child of the devil depart, your presence is a plague in which i see fit to cure. i command you, pass from this world to the one of your bat winged father, may he take you violently into his grasp. i invoke the powers of the light to cast you into the darkness. go to hell. i banish you, dark spirit, back into the maw of oblivion"_

_Please Read and Review.  
_

_-WordDemon  
_


	10. Now For Something Completely Different

They say hell is fire and brimstone.

They say its where you go to boil in a lake of lava.

They say its for the damned

They say a lot of things but they don't know.

Hell wasn't a cave sweltering with heat and it sure wasn't some demonic palace where some horned bastard cackles manically. No hell is worse then that. Hell is a place where you care carved up day in and say out. Endless hours of your flesh being slice, where you are brought just to the threshold of shock. Only to be brought back from the edge but not the pain. To be heal in preparation for to be sliced again and again.

Hell is screaming for help from your brother from the doctor who is supposed to care for you to be ignored. I know they would help me if they were really there. But his words were worming into my heart. That I was his toy, his little plaything and there was nothing that anyone could do. He would care me and heal me because here. In this hell. He was my god. I could stop this at any time he told me that. I would only come off the rack, if I would take up his blade, I could make it all stop. He got pleasure out of it. Twisting me and hurting me.

Eventually I submitted.

I scream until my throat was raw.

I scream YES.

I would join him.

I would rip into others as I had been ripped into.

I wanted his blade.

I wanted his blade to turn on other.

But my curse, my hell, it kept me silent.

So I was forced to remain on the rack, my self mutilated over and over until I was sure there was nothing left that resembled me. Then like the breaking of the dawn against the night, I was pulled back. Back into the very light of my life. I wanted to cry. I wanted to say something. But what I saw stopped me. It was an angel, my angel, my savior. Eyes brighter and bluer then anything you would have seen in your life, hair befitting of the warrior fresh from battle. But that wasn't what made him, I watching to reach out and capture his lips, to give my angel the thank you he deserved.

I plead for his name and then it came to me.

"Castiel."

After that I slipped into a blissful sleep for the longest time. Time passed and I healed but I could heal in the way I needed to most. A way that I wouldn't have even considered before him, I needed blood. And that what I plan to get tonight.

My chance to heal.

My chance to pick up that blade I screamed for.

My chance to draw blood.

Castiel showed me what I would need. The nurses station was small enough and round enough that it should hold him. I fitted it with a series of devil's traps and then dug into the drawers for a sedative. I had seen where they kept them when Doc had gone off to get one for dealing with that demon. The only thing a sedative was going to do was hold the demon in the body until I could wake him up and get him in the trap. A quick trip across the empty ward and a violent jab of the needle and he is ready.

Getting him in the trap and secured was the easiest part. The hard one was going to be waking him back up, that was without the adrenaline. Half a minute later he was up and panting, I wheeled the cart I had loaded up with everything fun I find in and I expected fear. No I demanded it. But I should have known better.

It was Alistair after all.

A smirk graced his lips and he started laughing.

"I'm sorry; this is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I know I shouldn't laugh its just that I'm mean. But come on are you serious. You're going to torture me?"

"I'm in heaven." I muttered as I picked up one of the surgical blades.

"What?"

"I'm in heaven." I smile at him, letting the joy of the song fill me, "And my heart and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. I seem to find the happiness I seek, when were out together dancing."

I slice the blade across his face, "Cheek to cheek."

Alistair hisses but his voice remained even, "You think I'll see all your scary toys and spill my guts?"

"You'll spill your guts, one way or another." I match his tone and for empathies peel off my shirt, it will make clean up easier later, "I just didn't wanna ruin my shirt."

"Come on you gotta want a little payback for everything that I put you through. For all the pokes and prods." I know him he's trying to rile me up, "then how about for ever little boy and girl I had on my rack before you."

Something in me snapped. I grabbed the paddles of the defibrillator and charged them,I turned to him, the charged paddles in my hands an pressed them into his torso. I fought against cringing at the smell of charing flesh or the way he rocked against his bonds. When I stopped he started chuckling again.

"Grasshopper, you're going to have to get creative to impress me."

"I've been dreaming of this Alistair, so trust me I have a few ideas." I pointed to several IV lines I had placed in him. I made a show of filling up four more syringes with adrenaline, "Lets get started."

I placed three of the syringes into the IV lines but didn't press down, the four I pushed in all into and watch as he twitched and flinched as his heart rate grew faster and faster. He was coming close to a heart attack but I was careful, I had given him just enough. He looked hatefully right at me and for a moment I couldn't have been happier; I took this little break to attach a heart rate monitor.

Cant be too careful.

"Let me know if you want some more there is plenty left."

The grim man tried to keep his voice even against his racing heart, "Go directly to hell, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars."

I sat back and watched as the chemicals continued to mess with his system, all the while watching his hand made blade. He had hidden it in his bed now it sat on my tray. On the coffee pot's hot plate, the twisted bit of metal was slowly beginning to glow red. I turned it over slowly; I wanted to make sure it was just perfect for him.

"There's my little pig poker, I wondered where it went. Do you really think this is gonna fix you. Give you closure. That is sad. That is really sad. Sad, sad. I carved you into a new animal Dean, there is no going back and no angel can change that."

"Maybe you're right but now it's my turn to carve." I slipped the red hot blade into his stomach, a favorite trick of his. Cuts, cauterizes and tears flesh all at the same time.

When I finally drew the twisted blade out of him and sealed the wound, he started cackling louder then he ever had before, "Ya know, its your professionalism that I respect"

"You lack the resources, your reality, is well just too concrete."

"Shut up."

"If we could just go back, I could teach you so many things.'

"Shut up."

"This that you could never imagine, you'd be capable of doing."

"Then all make you shut up." I up ended a box of salt holding his mouth open as the white graduals poured down his throat. There was something so completely blissful about inflicting this kind of pain on to him. Something satisfying, I could almost understand why he enjoyed it.

When I finished Alistair tried to hack up the salt, "Sound like I have something caught in my throat. I think it's my throat."

I turned away to grab something else, I couldn't have taken my eyes off of him for more then a minute but the time I turn back around he was standing in from of me, bloody and beaten but very much free of his bonds. He shoved me to the ground and smiled blades twisting happily in his hands.

"My turn."

I scrambled forward and managed to press on of the syringed down, forcing a fresh massive dose of adrenaline into his system. As much as the rack had held him up before, without it he crumpled into an almost convulsion heap of body. Grabbing another of the plungers, I pressed down dumping yet another dose into him. I honestly don't know how many before he died but I'm not stopping till his body his ridged.

Once all of the syringed had been emptied into him, I dragged Alistair back to his room and cleaning him up before repeating the process on the ward removing all trace of the trap and my tools.

As I climbed back into my bed, I muttered a small sentence outloud. I never learned to pray so I hope this works.

"I'm sorry Cas, it had to be done."

* * *

_A/N: For those of you who didn't pick it up. This Chapter was from Dean's POV, every 10th one will be._

_- WordDemon_


	11. Who you gonna call?

You need to come with me we have a lot to talk about"

Those were the last word Dr. Campbell said as the elevator doors slipped closed. Instantly my mind was off; how old was this elevator, were they always this small, if the cable broke would we even have time to know, would they be able to identify us as two separate people and not just one mass of flesh. God I hope they would find all of us. I would hate to be stuck haunting this place. God I need to stop thinking like him. There are no such things as ghosts.

I'm sure of it.

Or else there wouldn't be that stupid show, Ghostfacers, where they practically piss themselves at the slightest breeze.

So no, ghosts do not exist.

"So how has Dean been with your other patients?"

"Fine," I half lied, I wasn't going to tell her about the 'exorcism' of Meg Master, "a few bumps but that is to be expected."

"True, true."

Silence feel slowly over the small slow moving car. It seemed to fall like a great bird of prey, both weighing the car down and tearing at me with it claws. Dr Campbell coughed and I could feel her eyes moving over me in a slow calculating way. She shifted in the silent car, the way her movements worked from the bottoms of her feet through her whole body and out the top of her head was so fluid it was almost feline. She can tell that I'm lying, I'm sure that she can. I bristle uncomfortably until the door pings open and the smell of hardwood and leather rush in to my nose.

"These are the administrative offices."

"Oh."

"We will be meeting Dr. Adler in the conference room, he has a board meeting."

The room she directed me into was a shocking upgrade from the already high class exterior of the halls. It was a pristine white room, with everything trimmed in gold or topped with what looked like marble. It looked more like the green room for a god then something that should have been used for meetings. The only thing that spoke of psychology were the paintings that it had within the golden frames. On one wall was The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh, on the opposite was The Temptation of St. Anthony; but it was the back wall that caught my attention the most. It took up nearly the whole wall and if was for the two inches of gold trim or white wall, I would have sworn they has The Last Judgement painted on the wall.

"Zachariah is quite proud of that." Dr. Campbell noticed my curiosity.

"He painted it?"

"Oh god no, he managed to find a painted print of it so large." She smiled brightly, "Although he says it lacks the depth of the actual painting."

"Wouldn't know."

I muttered disinterestedly, there was already a soft scrap to punctuate my statement and then Dr. Campbell's voice rose up again, just as warm as before, "Please take a seat, I'd like to get talking about John out of the way."

"Thank you," I took a seat and tried to read anything in her impassible face, "It was why I came after all, he seemed perfectly fine when I came to see Dean before his transfer."

"Because he was."

"Then what happened."

"Surely by now you have noticed the effect he has on other people. You don't have to tell me I'm right, you and I both know I am. He affects those he comes in contact with, as I'm sure John demonstrated, some people it appears a susceptible to his delusion."

"You mean like metal illness as an actual sickness."

"Not quite, we believe that he is so compelling that he can cause changes in people predisposed to a psychotic break."

"But then what about John?"

"We've been looking into his history, to try and find any precursors."

"And did you find any?"

"Not one."

"Kinda blows your predisposition idea out of the water."

Mary smiled softly; it was the kind of half smile reserved by doctors for giving bad news, "It is unfortunate because we are unable to perform anymore evaluations."

Before I could say anything about here meaning, she broke into an explanation of how a few days after Dean was transferred over to my custody John's mental state began to mimic Dean's in most aspects except the bringing in of others to the delusions. For all intentions John had become the hunter and father of his former patient's delusions. They tried everything that could think of to undo what was happening, but it wasn't like dean or others with a disconnect from reality. John didn't slowly slip, it was like one minute he was John Wesson the lovable is a bit bumbling doctor. The next he was trying to chop a co-workers head off because he saw them as a vampire.

"So what happened?"

Mary's beautiful face went grim, "We had to sedate him and then a few weeks ago he slipped into a coma, he's practically brain dead."

"Practically?"

"He reacts to some stimulus but no matter what the reaction is always pain." A male voice spoke from behind me; its tones were a mix of pompous and compassionate. In other words, he sounded like a dick with wings.

"Hello Zachariah, this is Doctor James Novak."

"James, this is Doctor Zachariah Adler."

I stood up and slowly took in the man; I imagine to Mary it was something like a Texas stand off in those John Wayne movies. He was tall, defiantly taller then myself but I think Sam probably still had him; he was going bald too but he was obviously vain. He was in a suit, a nice one which he obviously keeps clean and well managed. A thought flickered across my mind; he looked exactly like the adviser to the mayor in that Ghostbusters movie.

The second one.

Ya know the one with painting and the marching lady liberty?

Seriously?

Anyway, I stuck out my hand and looked at him expectantly. Zachariah's pale blue eyes looked me over and then flickered down to my outstretched hand; I swear he gave it a look like you give something to find particularly foul. Like road kill or Sarah Jessica Parker. Eventually he gripped my hand and squeezed as hard as he could; in a "this town ain't big enough for the two of us" kind of why. When he finally let go, I caught relief wash over Mary's features.

"So James how is Dean?"

"He's fine I guess."

The man's tone was still patronizing, "That's good, making any progresses."

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I've picked up on something about Dean that isn't in his wall transcripts or anything."

This caught both of their attention, "Oh?"

"Yeah that what caused me to reach out to John, I wanted to ask if he noticed anything."

"I might be able to answer your question," Mary offered softly.

"Did Dean ever display a sexual attraction towards any of the character in his delusions?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't believe talking about Dean's sexual appetites is going to be a very productive conversation." Zachariah snapped suddenly, "We are here to talk about your methods for treating him. I thought it would be good to share our rare, one time success."

"Success? But John's notes don't-"

"Yes I would think they wouldn't, Dean reverted back to his delusions after about six hours of lucidness. John considered it a failure"

That was like John, he was almost as meticulous with notes as I am, "How?"

"That's the thing that we don't get, " Mary offered, "We just basically forced him to confront reality, I mean we were pretty harsh about it but it work."

"You made him confront reality?"

"All of that information is included with the copy of the interviews we did during his lucid period," Zachariah stood and inspected his perfect suit for any wrinkles; he seemed done with me, which was fine I was pretty much done with him. He turned his attention to Mary, "I want to speak with you after you show James here out."

"Of course." She smiled to hide the fact that she was biting her tongue.

The rest of my walk out of the hospital was painfully stiff. First down to her office to pick up a DVD then back to the elevator. Then back to the main lobby, the only thing that didn't seem rehearsed was when she pulled me a side and slipped a piece of paper into my hand. I suddenly felt both confused and scared, like the channel on the tv had change but the characters were the same.

"This was in John's hand when we found him," Mary whispered, "Zachariah didn't want me giving it to you."

As I began to drive home I let myself become lost in the hum of the tires moving over the asphalt and the almost inaudible din that came from my speakers. I turned it up slightly bringing the muddled murmurs into something more like hushed whispers. For some that wouldn't make a difference for me it's enough. It's enough to keep my mind busy but not enough to distract me from what Mary had handed me.

_I went to Missouri and found the truth._

I turned off of the highway, the exit for Lawrence welcoming me in with open arms. This was insane and probably not even likely, I mean come on John lost his fricken mind and I'm follow a note scribbled in sharpie on a piece of toilet. Really good job Jimmy; such a good way to prove your own mental stability. Go follow the musings of a mad man.

There were many things that I expected to see when I managed to find the home. Neon light, a big painting of a hand with an eye in the palm; heck maybe even some extra cats but there wasn't any of that. Hell the house looked like something pulled out of one of those ABC family specials. You know, the ones that are more teaching tool then entertainment.

With well practiced moved, I slid my baby into park and hopped out of the car. I listened to her purr hotly as she attempted to cool. I straightened my tie and walked across the lawn. As I mounted the stairs to the front door, two voice rose from inside the house and grew louder and louder by the second. One voice sounded sweet and bubbly, like you would imagine a fairy godmothers. The other sounded wet with tears.

"Don't worry about your husband my dear; he's still madly in love with you."

"Thank you, Missouri, thank you."

The wooden door swung inward as I went to knock and I couldn't help shifting like the kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. Much to my relief the women looked just as unnerved by my being there as I was. They mush have known that I heard at least part of their conversation. The smaller woman ducked her head and slipped off the porch, when she was completely out of my line of sight the sweet voice rose up again.

"Poor woman, he fucking the gardener."

I turned around and tried to frame my question properly, I mean John's note's never mention that she was African American.

Oh don't give me that look.

You've been there too.

I finally manage to get out, "Are you Ms. Mosley?

"I was wondering when you were going to get here."

"Excuse me?"

She turned away and led me back into her home, "You are the new doctor right?"

"Yes, how did you."

"Boy, just come in here."

I wanted to assume this was where she held her business but so far nothing about the woman struck me as typical. What I did notice however was that every single picture I had pasted up until this room had Dean in it. Some of them when he was much younger up until probably before he had his break down, I was broken from my thoughts when Ms. Mosely made a small noise in the back of her throat.

I had forgotten to introduced myself, "I'm Doctor Ja-"

"James Novak." She finished plainly, "sit please."

"How did you?"

"Boy you come into a psychic's house and are surprised to find she isn't a sham? And if you put your feet up on my coffee table I'll break em with my spoon"

I shifted uncomfortably and made sure my feet were firmly on the floor, there was something behind her voice that spoke the truth. My mind flickered back to the woman who had been leaving her house.

"You say you have power but lied to her."

"Most people don't come to me for the truth, they come for comfort." Her warm smile faltered slightly, "So which are you here for?"

"I came to talk to you about your son, Dean."

"Ah so the truth is what you seek."

"I guess so." I said lamely.

"The truth is, Dean hasn't been my son for quite sometime. he's been John Winchester's."

"But his father."

"Boy I don't mean the real one; I thought you'd have sense in your head. I know he's dead but Dean." She paused for a moment, "when he looks at me know, he doesn't look at me with the eyes of a son."

I sat on there on her old sagging couch, silent and thinking about what she said. I could imagine, well no I couldn't really imagine but I could think what I must be like for her. To see someone you love, someone you have raised no longer recognize you. I think it would kill me, to see the love of my life no longer recognize me. To treat me as a stranger. Course I think I'd have to experience the love of my life first.

"You love him, don't you?"

"What?"

"It's okay I could tell when you walked in. Even before Dean's mind slipped, everyone loved him. They want to be around him. I used to say he was like a mini sun. Giving light and warm to everyone around him, he liked that."

I couldn't help but smile at the image, "I bet."

My phone rang violently in my pocket, interrupting the nostalgic mood. I pull it out with out checking to see who it was I pressed the offending plastic to my ear. Though I know Missouri couldn't hear any of the conversation I knew it wasn't really necessary. Every emotion was playing across my face and her soft features did the best they could to mimic them. I was pissed that they had called cause really they couldn't hold down the fort for two days. Then shock and fear crossed over my face. I know in some weird way, smugness worked across my lips but instantly I felt horrible for it.

As much as I hated Albert.

And god did I hate him.

I didn't want him to go out like that. I mean really to think about it; it must have been a release for him, by taking that much adrenaline he took his heart out. But still maybe he was beyond saving if he managed to do that too himself. I looked up from my lap, the phone laying there after the call had ended, I tried to think of something to say.

"There has been an incident on my ward. They need me."

"What kind of incident?"

"A death," I stood up from the couch, "Oh one last thing, John Wesson wrote down 'I went to Missouri and found the truth'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"John came and visited me once, just like you. Stood right were you are standing now and asked me if there was anything I needed to tell him."

I pressed, the thoughts of my ward pushed aside, "And?"

"I told him the truth that he would have to destroy himself to save him. To save my Dean it would mean the end of him." She turned her brown eyes towards me, sadness making her gaze heavy, "Just like it will, you."

* * *

_A/N: And now the plot begins to turn. Please Review.  
_

_- WordDemon_

_PS - if you need a more daily dose of my sense of humor or just wanna expand your vocabulary go to "365 day of Winchester" in my profile.  
_


	12. Hellatus

I've never really been one for believing in many thing. I could never wrap my mind around the idea of ghosts or monsters in my closet or even really the idea of a god. Too much in the world was wrong, too many reasons to denounce his existence. I'm a man of facts and as a doctor I have to be. Heck even the idea of Santa Clause didn't sit well with me and I figured it out at the age of six. I mean come on, if it was real you'd end up with a fat man dead in you're heating dutch and that's just not good for resale values. There really is only one thing in all those mystical arts that I believe.

Empathy

And I'm not talking like feeling other peoples emotions or projecting your emotions on to them. That's just nutty and as I said I'm a man of facts. their is an idea of empathy that when a strong emotional even occurs in a room or home; it leaves behind a scar. Something unseen but bears traces of these emotions leaving them behind long after the action ceases. Imagine how much easier my line of work would be if you could just go into childhood homes or scenes of a crime and feel the pain. I wouldn't be so useless about reaching the core of my patients issues. I could attack the heart of the problem and speed them along the road to heeling. It was a nice thought and I never thought it could be a reality.

Until today.

I stepped on to my ward and although it was as clean and as spotless as it always appeared, I could feel something hanging in the air.

Hate

It filled my nostrils like boiling dog vomit. It stung my eyes and nose and ripped down the back of my throat like a beast with sharped claws. The smell poured down into the pit of my stomach and turned into a thick massive snake that coiled sickly over itself. Panic rose with the twisting in my stomach and I searched for any pair of eyes I could find. trying to find someone else that was smelling this, feeling this but nothing came; no one else seemed to notice. It was like drowning in filth and nobody was throwing me a lifesaver. Then a voice and a pair of dark brown eyes broke me free.

"Doctor Novak?"

I nodded and stuck out my hand, shaking his much meatier one as he finished speaking.

"I'm Officer Victor Henriksen with the state police, I'm hear to do some minor investigations into the death of one of your patients."

I was instantly focused, "Investigation? I was informed by my staff that they believed he killed himself."

"Funny thing about that," Officer Victor Henricksen's voice drawled with a sense of superiority, "We decided to check the tapes and we found something interesting."

"I would remind you that you are on a psychiatric ward." I seethed slightly between parted lips.

"Was that a threat?"

"No, just saying I see interesting on a daily basis."

A cocky smile played between the edges of the goatee, "I think I can trump anything you seen."

I followed quickly behind Officer Victor Henricksen and try to take in his stride. A lot can be told about the way a person walks, for example if a man is walking shoulders back with arms and legs swinging back and froth. And if there is a pronounced curve along his lower back that it means he is a man of confidence, more then a likely also a man who played sports. That was Hendricksen's stride, the pace of a former football player. In his boxed suit i felt like he was more like a lawyer then some state police officer. Suddenly with a military like stop, Officer Victor Hendricksen directed me into a room several doors down from my ward.

"In here if you would, Doctor."

I stepped into to the room, i had been in here only once before. It was the security room for this floor a back of twelve monitors showing angles of every part of the floor and my ward without the bathroom. Officer Victor Hendricksen whispered something to the security man behind the men the electronic counter. With a few quick punches of the buttons ever screen turned to black except for four floating right in the middle. They showed my ward, playing in reverse like a macabre version of "this is your life". Images moved from day to night and back again several times before suddenly stopping.

"This is what is interesting." The man behind the desk turn to me.

"What is?"

"The cameras all have the same interference."

Officer Victor Hendricksen spoke next, "Play the footage.

Images of my ward at night suddenly burst to life, one couldn't tell that time was moving unless I watched the dust move in front of the camera lenses. The the image seemed to bended and wrapped around a large image of white light. It had a shape something on the tip of his tongue, it was large and humanish but with an expanse of wings. It obscured everything but the very corners of the camera. And this blockage went on for just over an hour before it suddenly ended. I don't know much about technology but i was pretty sure a glitch like that was something that just occurred naturally.

"What about the sound?" I asked.

A smile pulled on Officer Victor Hendricksen lips, "I thought of the same thing, play it back with the audio."

The man behind the console nodded again and with a few presses of the button the screen began to repeat the cycle of the images. The sound warbled out in an electronic voice but their were tones of rough humanity. But it wasn't any language I had ever heard of. It sounded musically like Latin but broken like Russian. It sent a horrid chill down my back.

_bien blans tofglo telocvovim_

And then it repeated over and over. I had to guess that it would mean this sound continued over and over.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

Officer Victor Hendricksen turned towards me, "That what I wanted to ask you about."

"Why would I know?"

"I know your type Doctor," The smile between the goatee vanished, "You're a younger child, maybe the black sheep in your family, so you get involved in the medical field. You do this because you want to try an make a difference. Your constantly disappointing your parents because you wont follow their path. You think that because you have saved people before you have developed a God-complex. So you take on more difficult challenges and more dangerous patients."

I cracked my neck roughly, feeling my anger boil softly, "You're point?"

"I believe your patient Dean Winchester was involved."

"You have no proof." I need to be careful, balance my emotion so as to not raise alarms.

"No but I have history and according to your files, motive."

"You looked at the files?"

A curt nod accompanied one word, "Yes."

"Do you have a warrant for any of this?"

A edge came to his voice like a dog hunting after prey, "So you aren't going to cooperate with the authorities?"

"Do you have a warrant?"

"No, I don't." Officer Victor Hendricksen's voice flattened, "But I can get one now."

"Get Out! Go! And I'm going to report you to your superiors!"

With one final predatory look Officer Victor Hendricksen walked crisply from the security room, I watched on the now active monitors as he moved down the corridor to the elevator. I got the distinct feeling that this wasn't the last i was going to see of him. I turned back to the man at the console and asked him for a copy of the abnormality footage. All the while I couldn't get the sneer of Hendricksen's voice of of my head. After our little encounter he didn't deserve the first two parts. He was a prick, one who thought he knew what was what. I wasn't sure what frustrated my more, the fact that he was even partly correct in his grand assumption of me or the fact that he accused Dean.

No.

It wasn't just because it was Dean Winchester, he accused. It was because he accused one of my patients after looking at my files without a warrant.

It wasn't because I had feelings for Dean.

Oh fuck off. Anyway, I moved back into the ward. the heaviness of hate seemed to have slipped away while I was absent. I breathed deeply relieved to not be choking on my own breath and turned to find Nurse Harvelle waiting patiently. Or is that nervously. I was never very go at reading the difference when its important. She seemed to be waiting on me to give her some kind of reassurance that everything was going to be fine. But i don't think i can give her that, not now, because I don't know if everything is going to be alright. But what the hell, ill humor the poor girl.

"Take care of these guys, okay." I gestured to the ward, "We'll be fine."

"You sure?"

Not I'm not sure. I wanted to shout but I gave her a short nod and spoke quickly, "Could you bring Dean into my office please, as soon as possible."

"Of course but Dr. Novak, Tessa Grimm is waiting in your office and Meg Masters as well as his mother want to speak with you."

"Fuck."

Nurse Harvelle's face was surprisingly aghast for someone her age, "Dr Novak!"

"I'm sorry," I ran a hand threw my hair and undid the effort to keep it from becoming unruly, "just not exactly how I wanted to be spending the day."

"At least the officer is gone."

I nodded with empty intention, yes he was gone. But how long exactly was he going to stay that way? Taking the two files from Nurse Harvelle's outstretched hand I paced towards the door of my office and on the way two things caught my eye. First was a bit of watch looked like white painted from the art therapy had spilled across the counter and onto the floor of the nurses station. If it was around after my meeting I would have to remember to remind them that it was not the janitors job to clean up after us more then was necessary. The second thing was the way that every one of the doors seemed to be opened up and every reflective surface was covered.

This was Tessa's doing. At least I can ask her about it.

* * *

_A/N: __The saying is enochian (my voice protects all of him that is fallen) __Please Review. So I don't freak people out, I'm taking a few months off ( I have some personal stuff I have to deal with.) I will be back by September at the latest.  
_

_- WordDemon_


	13. Conspiracy Theory

Tessa sat in the chair with dark hair pooling down around her shoulders and neck, it was like she was looking out from under a great black hood. Her face was pale, smooth and passive, more so then I had seen it in other weeks. It's a death mask, Ii think to myself, remembering some long forgotten conversation about how some ancient people would cast plaster masks of the deceased face and place it over the original. It seemed like such an odd habit to preform for the dead, even stranger to remember but like many tidbits of information it was only useful in things like Jeopardy. Fucking Trebek. Taking a sip from my empty cup, the woman's dark eyes never moved from my neck line. Like she was watching my pulse. Watching my life continue. I resisted the urge to look up above my head and see if i could see the blood red numbers that I'm sure would count down my death.

"Why did you cover all the glass Tessa?"

"Because I had to."

"But why?"

She looked up at me her lips pulled into a slight frown. It pulled her skin tight and gave her a gaunt appearance. "Because I had to make sure his soul moved on from this place. the demon was sent away but had left his body to beaten to live."

"So you covered the glass?"

"Everything except the windows to the outside."

"Why?"

"Mirrors confuse the spirits of the dead." Tessa gesticulated softly, "They fly in thinking that it there way to escape, but they end up trapped. I didn't want him to be trapped, he's suffered enough."

I had my difference with Albert. I had them almost daily but he was as much a victim on his own mind. "He has, why didn't you just tell me?"

"Would you have let me? You're a doctor, its your oath to heal the sick." Her nose twisted at the thought. "My job is to tend to those who are dead, to help them move on from this world. So, would you have let me."

"I suppose not, but you will take the coverings down." I had to be serious with myself, I wouldn't. Allowing patients to indulge in their fantasies was completely not allowed. I knew that and she knew that. Hell even the nurses knew that. Wait a minute. Something is wrong here. "Tessa."

"Yes?"

"Who told you about Albert and the demon."

Her head turned just slightly towards me, i could see her pale cheek and nose in profile when she spoke, "Dean did."

"Thank you Tessa."

The dark haired woman moved ghostly through my office towards the door. The air around her barely moving and as I watched her i held my breath trying to picture her as she saw herself. Or as Dean saw her. It wasn't hard but it didn't seem right. The big black flowing robe and the rusting wheat scythe seemed impractical. No, I figure Dean must see Tess as she is with her hands as her tools of the trade. That was more horrifying then anything else. A valkyrie wrapped in a leather jacket and jeans. I repressed the shudder that wanted to cross over my shoulders and chest. With careful skill I slipped most brief notes into Tessa's file and dropped it into a drawer.

A great rapid knocking, bashed against my office door. I called out for them to come in, I knew who it was going to be. Meg Master's was scheduled to be released today and i had made the request that I see her before she goes off. It was for a less then professional reasons. Oh no you perverts I'm not going to have sex with Meg. She was a woman, not to mention one of my patient. No i wanted to talk to her about something one of her alters had said to me, to see if it was actually worth anything or if it had just been trying to fluster me. When Meg stepped into my office it was like seeing a completely different woman. Her hair seemed longer and more full of life; the white and light blue sundress captured the now freed spirit that was Meg Masters.

"Morning." She smiled.

I nodded slowly, eyes watching for any slip, "Morning Meg, how are you feeling."

"Clear. Cleaner then I have felt in years."

"I believe you but I have something I want to ask you."

"Shoot, Doctor Novak."

"One of your alters, after our last session told me," I paused trying to recall the words it had said, "your ward is spilling out of your control, what was it talking about."

"I'm sorry Doctor Novak, I have no idea what it meant by that but maybe as Pamela. I know that they enjoyed listening to her predictions."

We both stood up and

"Thank you Megan."

"No thank you." The young woman smiled with a one-hundred watt grin, "You have given me my life back, I wont forget that."

"You have no idea how much hearing you say that means to me."

That is true by the way, you would be amazed how many of my severe patients regain a stable semblance of sanity and never thank me. Not a single word of it. It's kinda sad because I spent so much time learning about them and then they are gone. They each take a little piece of my heart when they go. Takes forever for it to heal and even longer for the dull aching sadness to subside. Sensing my desperation, Megan leaned forward on her tiptoes a placed a kiss on my cheek; she pulled me into a hug that would have been so completely foreign several weeks ago but not now. Now it was only the sweetness of a woman returning to her family at long last. When she finally stepped through the door of my office settled back down behind my desk.

Pamela. Could one of Megan's alters have heard her say something and taken it for fact? No, doubtful. Her alters had been smart, cunning and all around evil when it came right down to it. It was no wonder Dean had seen them as demons. They would have been a perfect fit. Maybe that explains why Megan's eyes flashed dark. NO! Not that kind of thinking, it doesn't make sense. It was a trick of the light, someone stepped in front of the light casting a shadow that made her eye splash dark. That was the only logical answer. It could only be that. Nothing else would make much sense.

Unless.

No, nothing else would make sense.

No such thing as Demons.

Especially not when there was no single element of proof. I mean so i saw a trick of the light and so Megan had become instantly better after Dean's exorcism. It could just be some mind over matter kind of deal, Megan had always needed physical comfort to make any types of therapy effective. Even after weeks of therapies, everything it took to make her better was sometimes the placebo effect. Fuck, I need a beer. Stopping for a moment I plucked my phone off of its receiver, punching in well practiced numbers I waited for the other end of the like to be connected. Of course all I got was a voice-mail, typical.

"Hi you have reached Alan's voice-mail, I'm sorry I didn't get your call. Leave me a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible," I could almost hear the smile in his voice, "Ciao!"

The phone beeped sharply in my ear.

"Hey Alan, its James." I paused, "I been thinking I want to cash in on that rain check. If tonight works for you I'll pick you up after work."

Placing the phone back down on its plastic cradle and leaned back against my chair, exhaling sharply. I wasn't looking forward to what was going to happen next, this conversation with Dean was not going to be easy. I can see it actually going one of two ways. Either Dean will reject what i say without thinking about it, spinning the conversation around to his advantage or he would brush the whole conversation off with ease. Muttering something about Castiel and having that semi-glossy look in his eyes. I felt the hair on the back of my head raise up in a kind of jealous manor. And this is yet another reason why I need some kind of booze or just a day off.

Sometimes it seems like insanity is catching.

Letting out another rough sigh I plucked a surgical mask off of my desk. I was no use to Dean if he thought of me as some kind of demon, I'm sure Robert would love to write up that insurance claim himself. 'Wreckless doctor got attack and exorcised to death by a patient'. Of course that really would be the kind of exercise that I would want from Dean, something more along the lines the horizontal tango, the two person flesh orchestra, the making of the beast with two backs. If you can't get figure it out I'm talking about sex. Like I have said before, I need to get laid. Hooking the mask snugly around my face and ears, I opened the door of my office, peering out into the ward. It was still unusually empty, the brief invasion by the police had disturbed their lives and balance; it would take a few days to return things to the status quo. Nestled in one of the far corners however was a single patient, Dean Winchester. He sat facing my door almost as if he was waiting for me.

"Dean," I muttered quickly, "would you come to my office please? I need to talk to you."

The dirty blond patient stood up slowly, his shirt exposing his jutting hipbone softly. I was floored as my eyes moved up from there Dean's eyes were locked on mine with a cocky little smile that curled on his lips. He didn't pull the shirt down or try to do anything other then walk over to me. The sensual look slid of the patients face as he slid by me and into the room. I closed the door and spoke quickly.

"Please sit down; can I get you anything to drink?"

"How about a beer?" Dean suggested, "Blue Moon would be nice."

"Very funny Dean; but we have some things to discuss. We can always have a beer later, so you would recommend Blue Moon?" I smiled smoothly, trying to mask my intentions. "Water okay?"

"Sure."

I moved slowly, watching Dean's posture to try and gauge how to attack his defense. "So Dean, I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Albert. I know that you and he had issues."

"What are you trying to spit out here doc?"

"Did you have to do anything with is death."

"I'm shocked you have to ask." A smirk pulled on his lips.

"Dean, I'm not fucking around. If you killed him I have a right to know. I need to protect my ward and I can't do that with you lying to me."

"I didn't lie."

"Then please Dean, just this once don't fuck with me."

"Okay." The patient sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his voice sounded weary. "Someone, no wait, something has been killing Angels. So Castiel contacted me, he informed me that Alistair could be responsible. They said that even if he wasn't that he would know who was doing it. The angels, they wanted me to. Doc you have to understand I wasn't strong enough, when I was in hell I broke or Alistair broke me. Alistair remade me after I had broken. I wanted to make him suffer. So yes I killed him and the angels didn't get there answers.

I was silent, there wasn't much else that could be said. I had figured that Dean had some involvement but I thought it was vengeance. Or maybe he had some true memories of the event. But my semi-wishful thinking was pointless. Before i could speak though more words came out like I had broken a faucet on its open position.

"I know you don't believe in Castiel, Doc and I'm sure you think I'm just like every other patient. Rambling about angels and their own importance to the world. But the truth of the matter is I wish I wasn't important. You have no idea how much I wish it. I would kill to be able settle down and have some kind of apple-pie life." Dean's eye grew wide for a moment as a thought raced across his mind. "the cop, he was here about Alistair. He doesn't think it was a heart attack does he?"

"No, he dosn't."

"Did he talk to you?"

"Officer Victor Hendrickson," I sneered at the name, "wasn't really interested in talking to me. He was more interested in the security tapes."

Dean visibly paled, his skin growing sickly white, "Tapes?"

"Yes, unfortunately for Officer Victor Hendrickson. It seems that our security system had a massive error around the time of the incident with Albert. The images and sounds were distorted and I highly doubt that there is anything that can be extracted. But i doubt we have seen the last of Officer Victor Hendrickson. He seems certain that you are to blame but he is frustratingly disappointed at the moment. He shouldn't be around for a while."

"Thanks Doc." Dean grinned conspiratorially."

I arched my eyebrow, "Whatever for Dean?"

"For protecting me."

"Didn't protect you," I answered simple, "I told you I have to protect my ward. I wont tolerate this again Dean, next time I will turn you loose to the wolves."

A smile danced over his lips ever more powerfully, "Either way thanks."

* * *

_A/N: __I'm really hoping that I'm not totally pissing off readers by dragging out the lack of Dean/Castiel Love. Its all part of the plan but unfortunately the plan is horrible. I promise something is coming. Not sure when the next update will be. Sorry.  
_

_- WordDemon_


	14. Incubus

I don't go out to a lot of bars, in fact I don't think I have really been to once since I was in college, John was the one who always used to drag me to parties or bars. It was through him and his many illustrious girlfriends that I developed a taste for Purple Nurples, Fuzzy Navels and Blue Moon Beer; always in bottles. Nothing tastier but a sudden wave of despair struck me, John was gone. At least in the capacity that I once knew him.

So standing outside of a bar with Alan proved to be a little bit of a culture shock for me. The building was in the middle of what I could only describe as the neon district. It was two stories tall, dark red brick with a black door and a red neon sign that declared the bar's name to be Crimson's. I couldn't help but think it was a pretty clever, the color of blood, passion and lust. I could only image the patrons or activities that

"Well this is different." I muttered pushing through the door into the bar.

"What were you expecting?"

Alan's voice was lost to me for a moment as I took in the whole bar at once. It had continued the dark red, dark stone and bright neon lights all the way around the bar-top but the stage and dance floor were sporadically lit by the occasional spotlight. The couplings in the bar seemed pretty even to me; a few straight couples, several gay ones and then a swarm like mix of people that made up the rest of the patrons. After two minutes of silence, Alan elbowed my side and got me to respond.

"I don't know," I muttered still watching the crowd, "body glitter, some drag queens, and every few tables would sit a butch woman who could beat the shit out of me."

Alan snorted and tugged on my elbow lightly, "You really need to get out more."

"Hey I get out plenty."

"I'm not talking about those conventions. I dont care how wild they get, they don't count."

"Hey those conventions are insane." I scoffed at my own joke."

Instead of answering my statement, Alan just rolled his eyes and lead the way towards the bar. We ended up plopped down at the corner of the bar, me on one side facing the stage where a band of kids who couldn't be that far into their late teens or early twenties. I noticed something i found incredibly odd and well potentially dangerous, the front man still connecting the microphone into the bar's sound system was barefoot. I guess the young man wanted to get something or just didn't care, assuming the bubble gum pink hair was any indicator he probably didn't care. While I was distracted I heard Alan ordering up several different kinds of shots, nothing that I really knew them off. And all of them would clean my throat like I swallowed a mouthful of turpentine.

I turned back to face the bar, noticing that the bartender was suddenly gone again.

"So what happened with you and Ed?" I probed after knocking back the shot.

Alan looked at me for a moment like i had kicked him in the nuts, "I kissed him."

"That's good, isn't it."

"Sure."

"What happened Alan."

"He kicked me out, told me to never talk to him again." He sniffed heavily, "then i saw him making out with some blonde chick named Ambyr. He is such a douche."

"Amen."

I raised another unnamed shot into the air. Watching as many people began to filtered out onto the dance floor, eyes fixed on the stage as the band came back out. Aside from the pink hair and bare feet, the front man was dressed almost like a reject from the grunge era. It was a good look for him and he was smart enough to wear grays and blacks so that the outrageous color of his hair didn't clash with anything. With a twist of the hips he seemed to command attention as well as set my less then stellar gaydar on fire. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Alan take three more shots all while never taking his eyes of of the lead singer with the body of a dancer. A whine of the microphone came suddenly and sharply followed by the lead singers voice.

I swore when he spoke I heard Alan give a little moan.

"Hi, we are the Ten Inches of Heaven" The front man brushed his hair out of his face and smiled a blush pinking the tips of his ears, "I'm Leven, we'll get started now, if you want us to sing something just ask. If you want my number, form a line please."

The band started playing, it was soft barely audible over the din of the bar and then suddenly the voice that can floating out of the speakers. There was a girly, fanboy type of squee that broke out from somewhere in the growing crowd. I was floored by the quality of the voice, i could hold a tune but this guy shouldn't be playing in a some little bar. He sould be out there commanding throngs of adoring girl who would lust but never have. Picking up one of the random beer's Alan had ordered i listened softly.

_Hold it together, birds of a feather,_  
_Nothing but lies and crooked wings._  
_I have the answer, spreading the cancer,_  
_You are the faith inside me._

_No, don't_  
_Leave me to die here,_  
_Help me survive here._  
_Alone, don't remember, remember._

_Put me to sleep evil angel._  
_Open your wings evil angel._

_A-ah._

_I'm a believer,_  
_Nothing could be worse,_  
_All these imaginary friends._  
_Hiding betrayal,_  
_Driving the nail,_  
_Hoping to find a savior._

_No, don't_  
_Leave me to die here,_  
_Help me survive here._  
_Alone, don't_  
_Surrender, surrender._

_Put me to sleep evil angel._  
_Open your wings evil angel._

_A-ah._

_Oh._  
_Fly over me evil angel._  
_Why can't I breathe evil angel?_

Cheers and catcalls rose up from the crowed and they finished the song, I could hear some people shouting other titles. Apparently hearing something they could play, the band moved onto some other song in a similar theme but I stopped paying attention. At least directly to them, Alan's eyes were still locked on to the young front man who was now bouncing up an down to the rhythm of the new song. Alan licked his lips softly and muttered one word.

"Amazing."

A voice meekly muttered next to him. "I couldn't agree more."

I looked passed Alan and caught sight of the speaker, I wasn't sure how old he was but he was certainly around Alan's age as well. The man had on a green and pink argyle sweater with a muddy brown vest that matched his brown corduroy pants. He had a shy smile on his face and he quickly waved a hand in from of Alan's face and poked him. Distractedly my young friend turned his attention away from the stage. Even from behind I could see that Alan's features lit up with recognition. I could see they were getting quickly wrapped up into a conversation, so I tuned my attention to the remaining liquor and beer; I stayed that way until I heard my name.

"Jimmy this is Ian, he was a friend from college," Alan smiled and inverted the introductory gesture, "Ian this is my friend James Novak."

I stuck out my hand to shake the odd young man's hand but he paled and suddenly shouted, "Holy freakin' doppelgangers Alan."

"What?"

"You're telling me you didn't notice?"

"Notice what?"

Alan said looking as confused as I felt so I didn't speak. What? Did I have something on my face? Seriously I hate not knowing what the hell someone is talking about. Especially when its old friends and you feel like you have walked in on an inside joke. I feel like that way too often working with the twins. Alan and I both wait for the young man to find his voice again.

"He looks exactly like my Jimmy."

"Huh? You think so?"

"Definitely, its a little freaky actually."

I cocked my head to the side as Alan spoke again, "I think the nose is different."

I wasn't sure how long the conversation went on for and eventually I stopped paying attention to the actual content. I just started inserting nods and sounds of affirmation. Hey, I am not a bad person damn it, I just really don't want to listen to two old friends catch up. As I said before, inside jokes and all that. Eventually they tried to drag me out on the dance floor, the live band having been replaced by a pulsing almost electronic beat. When I finally managed to get away from them, dancing really isn't my style; I sat back down at my stool I noticed that all of the used glasses and bottles had been cleared away.

"Look's like your date left ya."

I turned around to answer the bartender and for a moment found myself completely dumbfounded. The man was hot. Cause hey, I'm not dead. When I see something attractive I will sure as hell appreciate it. He was tall, at least a foot taller then myself, a mop of crimson red hair obviously died to match the coloring of the bar. A pair of snug jeans gripped sinfully around his thighs and ass.

I manage to shake my lusty awe, "Huh?"

"The cute jail bait looking guy off talking to Leven."

"Oh, he was just a friend."

"Ah I see," He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows, "so can I get ya something or you just going to take up space."

"I'll just take up space. For now."

"Can I at least know the name of the guy taking up bar space."

"James Novak."

He slid a hand over the bar, "Nice to have you taking up a stool I'm,"

"Alex!" A woman's voice snapped, from what I could see she was a fairly busty woman, "I don't pay your ass to flirt! Start serving some drinks."

"Yes Wade!" he shouted back down the bar, giving me a lopsided grin he finished, "Alex Kelly."

Alex looked back at me and rolled his eyes, shimmying down the bar to assist some of the newer customers that had settled around the bar top. I started watching the way that the bartender started interacting with the customers. He flirted shamelessly and I watched as it pulled larger tips out of the men and ever larger tips out of the woman. I wasn't sure why but when he flirted with the men he set off my gayder but the minute he turned his attention to a woman he flat lined.

A pair of feet walked up behind me, their owner gushing, "Oh my god Jimmy!"

"What Alan?" I said turning around in my seat.

"He is so awesome you have to come and talk to him, you're the psychologist."

"I take it you want me to screen him."

"Just a little." Alan's face turned a ridiculous shade of purple.

I sighed, "Fine."

Moving quickly behind Alan, I followed the younger man off into a different part of the bar. The dance floor was packed but we easily moved through the crowd; Alan seemed to be able to move through the throngs without even being touched by the people. Me on the other hand, I seemed to bounce like that little metal ball in a pinball machine.

Bursting free from the throngs, I encountered the small group of people that had gathered around the table. I noticed Alan's friend Ian, nestled in the corner of the table snogging on someone with unruly brown hair. Several girls were talking to the rest of the band, no doubt asking about the meaning behind the band's name. As if he was waiting for us to return Leven was standing against the table; arms crossed in a simple act of confidence.

"Oh...hello." The lead singer smiled softly, "You must be Alan's friend from work."

"Yes."

Leven smiled, crossing his arms, "Man of few words I like that."

"Man of danger," I replied in a tone to counter his own, "you sure not wearing shoes on stage is a good idea."

"I trust S.W. to keep her bar safe and clean, if not just the stage."

"S.W" Alan questioned.

"Sister Wade." Leven grinned and gestured exasperatedly, this guy had to have been in drama, "For she is a sister but has no habit, expect for riding my ass about everything."

I spent another mind numbing ten minutes lightly grilling Leven like a piece of chicken. It was inane conversation but the kind of stuff that normally occurs during the first session you have with a psychiatric professional. Yes we analyze ever one we talk to. Its part of the job description. Confident that Alan wasn't going to get broken to pieces by his newest attraction, I walked back toward the bar. Taking a new stool as I had lost my seat to some largely over sized guy who definitely needed the two stools to support his weight. I'm not being mean here damn it. I'm being truthful. Alex noticed me waling back and pulled out another bottle of beer, having it cracked and read when I took me seat. Taking the beer, thanks hopefully written on my face, I took a long pull before speaking softly. Not really wanting to be overheard with what i was asking him. If my question surprised him he never showed it.

"You don't have a backroom do you?"

He winked at me, "I'm flattered man but I kinda have someone."

"I didn't mean me,"I blushed furiously, the heat rising all the way up to the tips of my ears, "I think Alan and Leven, are off in a backroom somewhere."

"Oh?" The bartender chuckled and made a face. "Well hopefully they don't make a mess cause I'm not cleaning that up."

Feeling bold from the booze I asked, "So, um is your someone here?"

"Yeah he is. He's the big goof on the dance floor, You see em?"

"No I don't."

He leaned half way over the bar, I caught oh a set of black tribe tattoos that reach out like shadowy fingers from the depths of his hip hugging jeans. I gulped hard as he shouted, "Boaz! get your ass over here."

A voice cam back from the crowd and for a moment it sounded familar, "What hell Alex, I thought we agreed never to call me that again."

"You agreed. I think its cute."

The man that Alex called finally strode out of the crowd and I was really starting to feel out of place with these people. The man was dressed in a kilt and pair of doc martins, with a t-shirt that declared him to be an 'Orgasm Donor'. His hair was a single thick mohawk the exact same color as Alex's. Then something occurred to me, if it wasn't for the funky hair, the make up and having more artificial holes in his head then real ones he would look exactly like Dean. While that thought moved through my head, Alex pulled the punk looking man into a quick kiss a sound of pleasant content came from on of them.

"You would," He mutter as he pulled out of the kiss, he then noticed me, "Hello, who is this?"

Alex did the intro for me, "James Novak, this is Boaz my boyfriend."

"Call me Priestly. Please."

"Priestly?" I said, disbelieving with an eyebrow lifted towards the sky.

"It's better then Boaz."

I laughed, "Point taken."

Before the conversation could continue a new voice interrupted nearly startling me right off of the bar stool. I ignored the snort that came from Priestly's direction because come on the man is in a kilt right now. He has no right to laugh at me. Although i got to wonder if he was wearing correctly. NO, stop it, just cause he looks like Dean doesn't mean you get to imagine checking under the kilt. Ugh, I'm not suppose to think that about Dean either. Turning around I saw it was Alan but he wasn't alone this time; he has the lead singer with him. And I am pretty sure Leven had his hand in Alan's back pocket.

"Hey Jimmy." My friend said sweetly,

"Yes Alan?"

"You think it would be okay if I caught a ride home with Leven?"

I lowered a knowing glance at him, "Are you sure?"

"Yes _DAD_," Alan rolled his eyes, "I'm sure I will be fine."

"I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Oh definitely."

Priestly leaned across the stool and sighed, it would have sounded real if not for the sappy expression he plastered on his face, "You go be good now Evelyn."

"Go fuck yourself Boaz." the blue haired singer snapped, a smile pulled effortlessly on his features.

"Oh young love," Priestly fluttered his eyebrows, "so full of life, hormones and STDs"

"Priestly?" The bartender blanched

"What come on? Remember Tad and Brad, weren't they just gay."

Alex reached out a smacked the back of the other man's head, carefully avoiding the mohawk. I zoned out of the rest of their conversation, it was sickeningly sweet but I just kept focusing on the drink that sat in the space in front of me. The danced round each other; Priestly's painted nails sweeping slowly over Alex's shoulders and pulled him down to a kiss. I felt like I bit of a pervert watching as the punk looking man tugged lightly on the bartender's lips. Just as I was about to hop away from the bar and try to loose myself to some other form of oblivion, i meant there has to be a liquor store open somewhere, my phone shrilled loudly.

I pulled it out without check, praying I didn't slur my worlds, "Hello."

"Jimmy?" The voice was familiar and slightly cold.

"Michael?" The name snapped into place it was my eldest brother, he wasn't the kind to just call to chat about something, "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk, it's about Dad."

* * *

_A/N: __Okay this chapter serves a dual purpose. You of course don't get to figure that out yet but this wasn't totally a bullshit chapter. Just a little bit of one. Also Leven, Wade, Sasha (Alex), Ian all belong to Crimson1 and Priestly is from "Ten Inch Hero". Not sure when the next update will be. Sorry._

_Bonus points for ID's the song, band and album. NO GOOGLE  
_

_- WordDemon_


	15. Different Strokes

"Jimmy!"

"What?"

Micheal's' voice was sharp in my ear, I felt myself wince, "Did you hear me, I said something has happened with Dad."

"So, what do you want me to say?"

I had moved my way out of the bar and leaned heavily against one of the walls that made up Crimson's. The air was cold, way colder then it should have been for this time of the year but it wasn't anything bad; just cold as hell. It was at that moment I wished I smoked. Not because i really wanted to but because it would help fill random ass voids like this. I sighed as i watched Alex and Priestly walking out of a side door. They were still wrapped up in each other. I sighed heavily, so I was living vicariously for a moment; sue me.

"Don't you get it, you selfish little monster." He snapped, I could practically hear the sneer in his voice, "Dad gone missing."

"Missing?"

"Yes. finally."

"This the same kind of missing that happened when i was twelve?" I should probably have remembered that when I get drunk I tend to loosen my inner monologue, "How bout when I was fourteen? Turning eighteen? Graduating college? Sorry but I'm done, I'm sick of running home to help clean up the messes."

"You think this is easy on any of us?" I knew this story, i made my hand into a little puppet as he finished his part of our dance, "You're half way across the country."

"Oh don't you dare Michael! Don't you fucking dare get all high and mighty on me."

"What your language." My older brother snapped.

"Hey assbutt." I smirked childishly at the phone. "I'm going to go imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and wait for the inevitable hangover."

"You have become so lost. I can't believe how disappointed you make our parents."

"Call me back when you are off your high horse."

"Jimmy" His voice sounded small and lost.

"Check the arcades around town, you know when he goes binging he likes to play skee-ball."

With that I hung up the phone. He knew how to get me but that didn't mean I had to be all nice about it. So I'm sure that i was probably leaving my brother to gap at the phone and trying to call me back. He could leave a message for all I care I turned off the my cell. The happy melody of the power off the last thing I could remember as I went back inside to drink more. Oh honestly I don't give a damn what you think, I don't care about my brother. Or really the rest of my family for that matter. They are a pretentious set of assholes. All of them and I mean it. I felt bad for my mom sometimes but she was pretty much the loyal housewife.

Blind faith.

I can't believe in blind faith.

I do believe in booze though.

You know how they put warnings on things that are potentially dangerous; hot coffee, electrical lines, cigarettes but there really isn't a warning on booze. I mean at least not one that would explain to me how I managed to get from the bar to my office. I'm going to go with some kind of miraculous teleportation, hopefully my baby is alright. I don't even know why i came here. Maybe because it was something that wouldn't remind me of my father. Or it could be that was what my family did. Some people grieved, some people confront a problem head on. Personally I do too much head on confrontation in my work. In my family, when we want to avoid a problem we throw ourselves into our work or some other project. It might not be the healthiest emotional habit but its how we deal.

Course adding booze to my emotions isn't making things easy.

Without thinking about my sleeping patients I let a roar tear violently at my throat as I grabbed the only picture of my whole family. Sorrow attempted to claw into my chest. I blinked away the tears and flung the frame into the far wall of my office. I smiled at the pleasant sound of destruction. Something so simple, so primal and it felt SO good. Smiling I snatched up another picture frame, I think it held a diploma from one of my schools. I didn't care. I just needed to break something, to be self destructive even for just a moment. I let this frame sail through the air and splinter against the wall. I laughed, it was painful; like the sound was coming through me then in me.

I flopped heavily down onto the typical psychologists couch. I mean I never have used this old fossil but it surprisingly comfortable. The leather and springs created easily underneath my weight. I looked at my hands, watching them twitch softly. There was rapid knock at my door and I can't remember if I told them they could come it. Funny how details kinda slip away from ya like that. One minute I was alone with my grief and rage, the next I have company.

"You alright?"

I looked up, startled to see someone else awake, "Dean what are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep much, especially with the noise your making."

"Liar." I snarked, he was getting easier to read.

"Fine, I've been dreaming of hell." He shrugged and I watched his eyes darken. Dean Winchester didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to be hunted in his dreams.

"Well you should try."

"Why should I try? Cause you obviously aren't."

"Because I told you too."

Dean snorted and a strange comfortable silence feel between us. It was nice, this little banter. It was different then anything that I had, had with Dean before. I wondered for a moment if maybe this was some kind of breakthrough. I figured the best option is to not push. So we just sat in silence of the seldom used couch. I could feel the body heat coming off of the patient in heavy waves. It was a little intoxication. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Dean itch at the hand print that still marred his shoulder. I still couldn't figure out what caused it originally. He didn't have any allergies that I could find and repeating the touch didn't cause any further outbreaks. Plus at this point the original hand print should have faded but it hasn't.

It was in all senses of the words a medical mystery.

"So, I'm not good at these whole chick flick moments," Dean finally broke the silence, "But ya wanna tell me what's bothering ya?"

"Its doesn't concern you."

He nudged my shoulder, "Try me."

"Its my father. He's gone missing again and my family is falling apart."

"I feel ya there, as much as I loved my dad. He's always been really distant."

"Dean, you should really try to-" My words were cut off as something crashed against my mouth.

Something soft, warm and slightly chapped. Something that tasted like minty toothpaste and something else. Something that was Dean Winchester. A rough taste that caused me to realizes that I was kissing Dean. I moaned softly as his teeth raked against my bottom lip. My hand moving slowly across the bare skin that barely showed between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his pants. The skin was soft, with a little bit of give that made me press harder into the kiss. Dean was by no imagination fat, but he had a little roundness that clung perfectly on his midsection. Roughly, Dean's tongue nudged my teeth, demanding entrance. I was happy to open my mouth, teeth grazing the probing flesh as I sucked on it sharply. the man growled as I twisted out body positions. Some how in the movement, Dean had managed to get a hold of my shirt; with a primal grunt he ripped the two sides from each other; a rain of buttons falling on him as I straddled his waist.

I could feel the warmth pressing up from beneath me, hot and very much present. As much as I appreciated Dean's enthusiasm, I broke the contact and resisted the urge to hiss as the cold touched my skin. With little resistance I slipped my hands along Dean's waist, my fingers brush just skin no underwear of any kind. that doesn't help my growing situation and i can see that Dean see is. He bites on his lip. This is the first time I've seen the blond look gun shy. I fight to not laugh, instead I bring my lips down to Dean's neck and jawline. I nibble and suck quickly developing a series of hickey's across his neck. He moans deep in his throat and bucks up expectantly into my hand.

With mad determination, I undid my belt and shucked my pants; my grey underwear now free to tent toward my navel and very obviously darkened by my anticipation. In a moment of clear headedness I reached down into my discarded clothing and pulled out my wallet. See boys, this is why even if you arn't expecting sex. Keep a condom in your wallet. Girls pack Mace in cases of sex, guys we pack condoms. I held the corner between my teeth as I stuck on of my fingers in my mouth. Okay so the inner doctor in me is saying that saliva isn't a good enough lubricant for sex. But tough it was i gotta work with, hopefully I can loosen Dean up enough first.

Teasingly I snuck the first finger of my free hand down between his legs. I knew I had found the right spot, you know why? Because of the hiss that came from between Dean's teeth and the fact that his entire body locked up. I sighed to myself and started working slow, I hate to admit this but i was already fully primed and waiting. There was a fear that I would not make it to actual sex. Or my ass would

"Relax." I whispered in his ear, "I won't do anything to hurt you.

"Relax Dean."

As I went to push in a third finger, I was stopped by the blond gaping my hair roughly and pulling me close to his lips.

"Just put it in already!" Dean growled, voice thick with lust and he bucked up into my hips.

Suddenly there was a moment. I saw stars, a bright white heat just washed over all of me. I ground my hips back into his, the feeling of our heated flesh glancing and grazing across the others was intense. I gasped and the condom packaged feel from my mouth. It bounced comically off of Dean's nose and onto the couch. We repeated the action both are hips finding rhythm in the slick heat. My hand pulled out and began to lightly hold Dean's wrist in place as i attempted to taste every inch of his sweat glisten skin. We thumped against each other, pleasure building at a painfully slow pace.

Our tension built.

and built

and built

until it filled us completely.

Our voices overlapped each other as we rode the wave of pleasure all the way through the crescendo.

"Dean!"

"Cas!"

I sat up sharply in one of the on call beds, gasping and covered in sweat. My head fuzzy and feeling like it was full of razor blades as the light hit my eyes. I cursed who ever created beer and liquor, rolling over to try and force myself back to sleep. Even if it was only for a few moment. I wanted to recapture that dream, it was quickly slipping away; all i know was that it was the closest thing I had to a sexual encounter that didn't involve my hand. But I knew it was going to be pointless. Even without a clock I could tell by the noise in the hall that I would have to be at my ward soon, I would also have to go find Dr. Singer. I hated to take more time off, but my family really did need me. I just wish it didn't feel like I was coming at his request.

From underneath the feeble covers I could smell a mug of coffee and the indentation of weight. It was light, which meant it was either one of the nurses. Or from what I can feel of his leg, Alan. My hand shot out blindly, searching for the cup that i prayed would be there. He laughed at me. The prick. And pressed the mug gently into my hand before speaking.

"I figured you might need this."

I sat up slowly and nursed the warm, caffeine heaven, "Thanks Alan."

He gave me a noncommittal wave of his hand, "You would do it for me if I was looking rough."

"Hell,"I said between sips, "I have done it for you."

"This is true."

"So tell me about your night?"

"I'm in love." He swooned dramatically and leaned against me.

"You sure you don't mean lust?"

He smacked me lightly on the shoulder and sent back a equally dry response, god love the kid, "Oh look someone pretending to acknowledge the difference."

It was at this point that I noticed the fact that Alan was still dressed in his clothes from yesterday at the bar. If i slept here then what was I wearing? My vision sneaked down myself and found my self dressed in a pair of scrubs. Not the doctoral or nursing scuba either. I was in the same color as the residents of my ward. Something flashed through my mind, gone before I could even figure out what is was I remembered. Shaking my head I looked back up at Alan who had seemed to pause for my reaction. Since i had no clue where he had actually stopped i made a rolling gesture with my hand as I answered.

"Anyway, you were saying?"

"Yeah, so we get back to this nice little town house that he and his sister are sharing. He decide to play a game to get to know each other better. Two truths and a lie; the basis of the game is that you"

"Tell two things that are true and one that is a lie. I'm not that old Alan"

"Yeah I know, but its a great way to get to know someone. Eventually we starting watching some horror movies. Not the newer stuff some of the old school stuff. Dracula, Wolfman, and the Exorcist."

"Did you guys get physical." I asked just over the rim of my mug.

"Jesus Jimmy look at you ya big pervert."

"Man can't be curious for his friend?" I defended myself, fighting the blush that wanted to be known.

"True, but well nothing major happen." Alan waggled his eyebrows slowly, a move that reminded me of Dean, "Maybe a little shower time fun, that is something we have in common."

"That," I said with finality, "will never reach other people's ears."

My younger friend pouted heavily, "Fine, but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You were getting some looks last night. Go home with anybody?"

A scrappy after image of my dream came to mind, "No."

"Too bad."

"Yea." I said dryly after draining my mug.

I bid Alan a half-hearted goodbye. I didn't want to ruin his pleasant mood with my drama, I wouldn't do that to him. If this Leven guy makes him happy and keeps his mind off of that asshole friend of his, Ed, then I think the guy could walk on water. But I swear to god if he break Alan's heart I will make the wrath of god look like a love tap. Moving through the hallway, i noticed the strange looks that I kept getting from people. Yes these are patient scrubs. Yes, I know I am wearing them. Yes my junk is sticking to my leg cause I'm not wearing underwear. Wait what? Another step for confirmation and I had to curse. Somehow over the course of my drunken evening I lost all my clothing. Just freaking great. I might as well tempt fate further and take the elevator.

Sighing, I stepped into the little metal death trap and pressed the button. The door's slid shut and the Blue Öyster Cult filled the cabin with "Don't Fear the Reaper." Seriously, karma, I swear that six armed bitch has it out for me. I rode in silence, wondering how bad it would be to die to this song. I'm not morbid but come on damn it. Its like singing it in a pediatrics ward. Its just asking for trouble.

Finally it opened up with a nearly silent ping as the door slid open. Spilling me out into the long hallway towards Dr. Singer's office. Sprawled out across the desk was the man I was looking for. He was passed out and the smell of booze hung heavy in the air. With my already sensitive head today I had to fight the urge to vomit the coffee back up into his carpet. I stepped further into his office.

"Robert?"

No response.

"Doctor Singer!" I shouted.

"Jesus boy!" The grizzled elder doctor shot up in his seat, knocking a bottle of scotch to the floor, "Do you ever think maybe it would be a good idea to make an appointment?"

"Sorry, I just need to talk to you about something."

"What is ya idjit, I'm busy."

"I need some time off."

"No." He said plainly and calmly.

I started again, "But my family."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because," He rolled out from behind his desk, he seemed even smaller today then ever before, "last time you were gone for a few days and one or your patients died. You weren't in over a weekend and a nurse was attacked. Your ward is too volatile to be left alone. If you are taking time off, you have to take him with you."

"Take who with me."

"Mr. Winchester." He said without hesitation.

"Dr. Singer you can't be serious." I gaped like a fish, "Dean is dangerous to any and everyone he sees."

"Then I'm having your entire ward locked down and sedated."

"You're serious aren't you."

"Always."

* * *

_A/N: __Yay, Slashy Goodness. Finally right? I'm pretty sure I should have upgraded the rating for this but I will keep it where it is for now. Still not sure when the next update will be. Sorry._

_- WordDemon_


	16. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

I fucking hate flying.

I've always hated flying.

Well maybe not exactly flying itself but definitely the concept of thousands of feet up in the air; surrounded by a metal bubble that could be burst with little effort. That's one of the reason I liked to take red eye flights, I could pop back a sleep aid and be knocked out the entire trip. But this time I didn't even need one of those little travel glasses of booze that they give out on planes. Not that my body could handle the alcohol right now. I sat down in the couch seat and felt all my tension fade happened as my eyes slipped closed could only be described as tumbling backwards.

It was as if my physical body and the chair I sat it had become nothing more then water. I plunged down into the cold dark of oblivion. I was dreaming. Lucidly, but still dreaming. Footsteps sounded over the nothingness of my dream, it signaled the approach of someone. For some reason I grew tense the closer the feet sounded until like the curtain being through back from a while my eyes were flooded with light. The figure stepped into the light and it took a moment for me to adjust to his appearance. A white shirt, white jeans and belt all clinging sinfully tight to a dancers lightly built body. Blue hair fell plainly around his face obscuring it from view. Memory crashed in on my thoughts. The singer. The guy from the bar.

"Leven?"

My voice came out weak and crushed by the void.

And then everything slow down. Leven lifted his head and the cobalt bangs fell aside, his lively eyes have been replaced with black. It hung across his vision like an obsidian mirror and I could seem myself reflected in it. A cocky smile that didn't match the overall personality. The thing wearing Leven's face stretched out his fingers and touched me on the forehead. The world around me swam and changed to a car in the middle of a dark ally. A orange muscle car was parked between two overflowing dumpsters. I turned my head to see Leven standing next to me still, his black eyes focused on the passengers in the car. My staring caught his attention and he pointed to the car; something about his eyes tickled the back of my skull. I had seen them somewhere else I was sure of it.

I had seen them on Meg Masters.

When Dean performed his exorcism her.

Dean's delusion.

Black eyes were demon eyes.

As soon as the though occurred to me I noticed my position had changed. I wasn't sure when I stepped but all at once I was standing at the bumper of the strange car. I peered through the glass and nearly stumbled back at what I saw. The car was occupied by Sam Colt and Nurse Diamon, that wasn't what shocked me most. They were in a state of undress that obviously signaled a release had happen but that wasn't the shocker. No, Sam Colt, Obessive Compulsive Neat Freak, had his lips pressed to Ruby's pale wrist like a baby suckling from his mothers breast. It was sickening to watch when he mouth filled with her blood and twin rivers of near black fluid rolled down his both his chin and neck. They both seemed to be in ecstasy, making noises of passion that I couldn't hear in the dream.

I spun away from the scene and directly into another one.

The hallway was one I had seen many times before. It was in the hospital, several floors below my ward. Faceless doctors and nurses walked through the halls, moving past me as if i wasn't even there. Even for a dream that is freaky. I tried to shout but nothing came out this time as the thing wear Leven appeared by the elevators, his finger pointed off down another hall. As I walked up to him I could help but snark.

"What are you the fricken Ghost of Christmas Mind-fuck."

No response from his mouth other then the slight twist of leven's lips as it vanished and reappeared further down the hall. It pointed into one of the hospital rooms, I followed quickly down the hall and slipped into the room. Half expecting to see another kind of blood orgy. Oh shut up. Like you have never had elements of one dream bleed over into another. it happens all the time, so relax.

Instead of a blood orgy I find the room completely clean, thank god, but otherwise occupied. There were two beds each with a man hooked up to machines. They were both brain dead, they had been pulled into a lake and drowned. They managed to revive them but both men have been otherwise gone for months now, with no sign of change. It was one of the saddest cases to come into the hospital in a long time. As I stood watching these to men, I had to resist the urge to yell at the thing wearing Leven for taking me here. It was my dream or is is my nightmare. I can't tell but I think yelling at you dream might be a sign of some mental problems. I was instantly glad I resisted because I would have missed the monster floating through the very wall of the hospital room.

You know in the first Ghostbuster movie. That scene where the lovely reading ghost transforms into this big hideous thing, that exactly like what i saw floating towards the bed. Then the transformation kicked on like it was going in reverse. One minute it was a ghostly monster and the next it was a woman dressing in a long strapless gown with her midnight black hair spread loosely along her shoulders.

"Tessa?" My voice squeaked.

If she actually heard me she made no reaction, she only drifted towards the two patients. Her bare feet were completely silent and her hand stood open and extended as they passed over the bodies. It reminded me of someone using an ice cream scoop to form the perfect ball of frozen treat. When Tessa's pale hands reached the men's faces she stroked up and away from them, pulling was looked like a pale blue flame out of them. All at once sound filled the room as both men flat lined together; Tessa ghosted away from them with the flames still in her hands. The sparks of life. The faceless doctors rushed in and began to try pushing the life back into them. It wouldn't work, they were dead. The reaper had come and taken them away.

I wanted to swat them away, let the bodies rest in peace.

But I couldn't.

The world shifted around me again but this time is reduced back into darkness.

"Okay, where are you now."

I shouted my voice straining to be heard through the shadows. I knew the thing wearing Leven's face was going to show up again but I guess my psyche decided that it had used the image of poor Leven enough. Instead the darkness was pushed back by a column of light that fell a few feet in front of me. illuminated in the center of the shaft was a huddled figure of a man. There was something familiarly unfamiliar I noticed while looking at the figure, he was dressed in a leather jacket and a pair of jeans. Otherwise his tanned skin was exposed to the shadows around it.

The man looked up as I approached and I was nearly flattened on my ass by the sight. Sharp green eyes widened with relief as they saw me. It was Dean. Pain painted his normally handsome features. I tried to reach through the light to touch him. To offer the comfort that he visibly needed. But my hand stopped right at the line between the dark and the light. I was being held out.

No.

I wasn't being held out, he was being held in. This was a cage.

"Help me." Dean's voice came out feeble and soft.

The ground underneath the leather wearing specter of my patient started turning a dark crimson as blood began to pour from his mouth in vomiting coughs. It stained his shirt, his sun kissed skin; the stinking bodily fluid managed to get into Dean's hair. He vomited more blood then I know is possible for the body to contain. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the horrific sight. I just watched as life slowly drained out of Dean's eyes but before it was completely gone the blood vessels in his eyes burst sending the same crimson that was on the outside of the man through his vision.

I screamed as he slumped over and more blood poured out from between his now pale lips. I screamed and screamed until my voice cracked leaving me silent in the growing darkness. It was only in that silence that I heard it. The beating of wings against the air. I looked up into what I could only refer to as the sky, straining my vision to try and see something. Then as quickly as it started the flapping stopped. I could feel that was ever it was had landed. Footsteps echoed in sync with my hammering heart. What little light still filled the space let me see the new horror that had joined me.

It was me.

I stood across the ring of light from the doppelganger. He stood in a tan canvas duster, ruffled dress shirt and half undone tie; his hair looked like mine does when I rolled straight out of the bed in the morning. That is to say it looks like two porcupines are having sex on my head. He cocked his head in a glace that I know I had done to my dog Sasha so many times before. It was an odd look to see on my own face. He stepped forward into the light, his feet plashing in Dean's blood. He's eye flickered back and forth between the crumpled form and myself; when we locked gazes I was shocked at how blue his eyes were. When he spoke to me his voice was devoid of real emotion, it was however rough like his tongue was sandpaper in his mouth

"You could have saved him."

"I know."

"You should have helped him."

"I know."

"Why didn't you save him?"

"I was afraid."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I feel."

"I love him."

"Who are you?"

"Save him."

A little smirked twisted the corner of his lips. I hated it on my own face. Before I could respond to his little statement, my doppelganger pressed his two fingers like a gun towards my forehead. For a moment I couldn't help but think about completely moronic he looked doing that. That was the last thought that passed through my head as the fingers touched me. They were surprisingly warm and shocked like getting struck with a bolt of lightening.

I bolted up right in my plane seat, the man next to me gave me a glare like my being startled was such an inconvenience for him. Fuck him. I resisted the urge to flip him the bird as I settled back down into my seat. In the window, the sun was starting to rise. I couldn't help but shake my head and feel the dreams slip away from my mind as i listened to the captain welcoming us back down to terra firma.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving at the terminal shortly. We know you have so many options but we thank you for joining us on United Britannia Airlines flight 2485, those TransNational passengers please stay in your seats as we will be departing for Lehigh Valley Airport in twenty minutes."

When the man next to me stood up his carry-on bag smacked me straight in the chest.

I fucking hate flying.

* * *

_A/N:Here y'all go. Sometimes I wonder how many people catch my little Easter eggs and references back to the show. Anyway, I'm back at school now. If you read, please review._

_- WordDemon_


	17. Welcome Home

Have you ever noticed that certain places always seem to smell that you cant ever seem to get out of your nose. Not only that they all seem to have the exact same smell, no matter where you are. For me those places are airports. It a lovely perfume of sickly sweet food, booze from the lounges, the general smell of people, and of course the lovely smell of burned fuel. Its enough to make a person on to yank all over the airport securities shoes. Something settled into the pit of my stomach, this sense that I was begin watched. I shook it off an moved through the concourse. I looked around trying to find out who it was but there was nothing. So, I watched a flow of people move through the gate's towards the baggage claim and I thanked whatever little foresight I had to only pack a carry on bag.

Course that only left me with three shirts, counting the one on my back, but I didn't plan on staying more then a week. Even if I hadn't found my father, in four days my ass was walking back though these gates to go home. If Michael and Rafael don't like it they can bite me; knowing Michael he probably would.

I stepped out of the airport, the automated door's swinging open and leaving me to contented with the cool air that hit me like a brick. The general smell of ocean, asphalt and lack proper trash disposal were made physical by the staggering humidity. I could feel the thick, heavy sweat beginning to roll down my spine and when on of the droplets rolled to the crack of my ass I could suppress the disgusted shiver.

Welcome to Jersey.

As the doors to the airport slipped closed, the feeling of being watched vanished. Smirking, I threw my hand out and let loose a wolf whistle that would have made Dr. Cox proud. One of the sunshine yellow taxis screeched to a stop just in front of me, I had to hop out of the way before it ran over my foot. Cause lets be honest the last thing I need is a busted foot keeping me bogged down. I chucked my carry on bag into the back seat with me before slamming the door shut. The cabbie looked at me like I was some kind of annoyance, I shot him back a glare; I was not in the mood right now.

"Where too bub." The man muttered around a cigar.

"I need to make two stops."

"Two?"

"Did I stutter?"

The cabbie grumbled silently, something wordless before he said, "Whats the first stop."

"Seaside Funground."

The car moved easily way from the curb, leaving the airport quickly behind in the rear view mirror. I tried to pull up memories from my childhood, something different from my teenage years. Its funny when I think about growing up I get this warm pleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach but when I try to focus on specific events; its like there is nothing there. It was frustration. I kept coming up with nothing really useful. There was just a flash of something; me and my father at some random dock, at some random lake and on some random Autumn. It had just been the two of them. No mom, no Michael and especial no Rafael.

But that was I think the last time that my father and I actually did anything together.

Not long after that my family started to drift apart.

"Oy buddy, we're here."

The cabbies gruff voice bumped me out of my stupor.

They say you can never go home again but you know what, that can go fuck themselves. Because you sure as hell can go home but you might not like what you see. That exactly what ran through my mind as I watched the illusions of my childhood crumble into the reality that was now the Seaside Funground. The bright neon colored paints had become sun bleached to a pastel pallet and half of light bulbs didn't even light up anymore. I piled out of the taxi, grabbing my bag just in case throwing a couple unknown bills at the driver. I turned around to tell the cabbie I was going to be maybe ten minutes but he was already peeling down the street.

I shouted and filled the receding car the bird, "Son of a bitch."

I'm here now, might as well search of my father. There were really only two place he would end up in this whole place but that didn't mean he would be easier to find. Option one is the Seaside Funground Mystery Spot. Its this rinkidink little fun house where they claim that laws of physics and gravity do not apply. Basically its full of oddly painted rooms, optical illusions and furniture nailed on the ceiling. It was one of my father's favorite places when we were younger because we would look at it all with so much wonder. Would he go there now?

Maybe?

Probably not.

I walked further into the Seaside Funground and the sound of the midway drifted on the air. I recognized the sound of someone buying credits from the vending machine.

"Welcome to the Circus of Value!"

My ears perked up at the familiar sound, my father was the only person I knew that insisted on using the vending machine that had that stupid voice. Ever one else used the more modern one that didn't rob you of a few credits ever time you used it. I stepped into the midway and was flooded by the sounds of the different machines bounding with their happy melodies. Fun fact, carnival games and slot machines all play the same set of happy cords. It used to make the player happier and more likely to continue playing. Shuffling down the midway was a sole man.

From behind, the man was dressed in a brown denim jacket with the obviously threadbare pajama bottoms and fuzzy slippers. This man, dressed like a homeless person, was my father; Charles Novak. He shuffled over to one of the machines and dropped a coin into the machine. There was the result of the musical tune and the heavy thwack as the skeeballs hit each other on the way down.

"Father." I muttered, walked toward him as he started playing.

There was no respond, just the sounds of the midway."

"Can you hear me."

He hummed.

"Dad, it me," I pleaded, "its James."

All at once my father turned towards me. His face was slack, his beard was scruff and his eyes are tired. This isn't the face of my father it is my father but the brightness and life was lost from them. It was sad. My father managed to croak out one word; my name.

"Jimmy?"

"Ya dad it's me."

"Why aren't you in Kansas anymore?"

"Michael called me." I try to hide my bitterness, "he needed my help."

"But you hate him."

I sigh heavily, "I don't hate him. He just never tried to understand me. None of you did."

There was no way to tell if my father has heard me, because he simply held up a single one of the game credit chips. I knew exactly what he wanted, it was a silent kind of dare. It was his way of both apologizing in a little way and saying, _"Hey! Wanna play? And Yes, I really do"_ So I take the coin from my father and join him at the skeetball machine next to him. Together we blow quickly through several hours of time. It was something simple but in the small action I felt closer to him then I had in nearly five years. By the time we had blown through all of the credit chips it was well into the night, the Seaside Funground was illuminating our little corner of the earth. I checked my watch.

10:34

Shit.

It would take at least a half-an-hour for a cabbie to get here and then another hour for us to get back home. That is not exactly a bill I want to pay for but as of right now it doesn't look like we have any choice. I pull out my cell phone, only to notice my father once again shuffling somewhere, this time off of the Seaside Funground complex. I follow casually behind him, I don't want to lose him because he won't come back here now and their are too many other midways along the beach. After a few minutes I hear a shrill, Beep-eep, and I smile brightly. No one had told me that my father had taken one of the cars. Before he can climb in, I snatch the keys from him and popped my self behind the wheel.

As I back out of the parking lot I notice another one of the Seaside Funground's patrons leaning against the fence. He seemed oddly familiar; closely cropped blond hair, a medium weight jacket and a snug pair of jeans with a flannel shirt to match. When I go to get a better look at him, the man disappeared. I shook my head and put the sense of Deja vu out of my mind; readying myself for the drive home.

Breaking some rules of the road as well as laws of physics, I managed to pull into the old neighborhood at quarter after.

It was too dark to really get a look at anything, so I just entertained myself with finding the house.

Two minutes later, I am lead inside by my father, pausing only to enter the three digit security code, it was just three jabs to the right most button on the middle row. I resisted the urge to snort at this, not because it was particularly amusing but because i knew that something like that would freak Dean out. Ugh! Fucking hell i was doing so good, nearly an entire day without thinking of him. It seemed that once i started thinking about him, I couldn't stop and then it clicked. The man I saw at the Seaside Funground when we were leaving, the man who had been watching me. It was Dean!

The thought punched me.

He followed me.

He broke out of the ward and followed me.

That's kinda sweet.

In a completely fucked way.

Some how in my musings, my father had left me and gone off to bed. it was probably for the best, even though either of them slept together anymore both of my parents kept up the facade of their marriage. I knows it wrong to call your parents marriage something like that but when you know for a fact that one of them is constantly sleeping around and is engaged in an active relationship with the pool boy. How do I know this? Because I have had the unfortunate displeasure of find them mid-coitus. I shutter to myself as i close the door to my bedroom, no child should have to see that.

Stripped down to my boxers, I practically flopped down on the bed and waited for the sweet oblivion of sleep to take me.

...

...

...

...

any minute now

...

...

...

...

_tap_

...

...

_tap_

...

_tap tap_

...

I shoot up in bed, feeling incredibly childish but it sounded way too much like when my first boyfriend would throw stones at my window. I padded softly over to my only window and found four small round stones sitting perfectly on the sill. I looked out across the dark lawn and saw him, standing half in shadow, dressed exactly like he was outside of the Seaside Funground. I had to stop my self from drooling that the sight. I opened the window and hissed out at him.

"Dean what the hell are you doing here."

"I followed you." He called back, "I missed you."

"Damn it Dean."

Even from a distance, I could see the hopeful look on his face, "Can I come up?"

"No," I snapped, "just stay there I will come down."

* * *

_A/N: I'm sorry people from jersey, I have nothing against it. Jimmy does. Did anyone notice a non supernatural jokes I hid in there. Please review._

_- WordDemon_


	18. What Fresh Hell Is This?

The grass was damp under my feet. I paused for only a moment, it hadn't rained and it was still too early for there to be dew on the ground. Shaking my head; now was not the time to start going over the state of the lawn. Especially with someone like Dean Winchester, who could potentially disembowel a little old lady with a spork because she was a hag or something. I repressed a mad giggle as the image floated up into my head. Something about him and the weapon of choice made the slaughter of elderly women hysterical. Okay maybe I should be concerned with myself but come on.

You can't tell me you didn't at least smile at the image.

You did, didn't you?

You sick bastards.

Anyway, right, where was I? Oh yeah? So I moved slowly across the back lawn, wishing instantly that I hadn't grabbed a flashlight but I should have because I couldn't turn on any of the house lights or risk waking up. As such I could barely see a damn thing, even the glow coming off of the pool wasn't really helping. Wait a minute. Pool glow? The pool light is on? He wouldn't have? My thoughts were interrupted by a well pronounced splash. Please be a raccoon, or a beaver, or Crowley's damn dog. Just please don't be Dean. Give me that, don't be Dean. Walking towards the pool I knew god or who ever wasn't listening as I found in order.

Dean's leather jacket.

Dean's flannel shirt.

Dean's boots and socks.

Dean's belt.

And that was it.

Great, I have a delusional patient who somehow followed me halfway across the country and now is swimming around my family pool in only his jean and whatever underwear he may or may not have on. Damn it, now is not the time to think about the type of underwear my patient is wearing. Approaching the edge of the patio that surrounded the pool I watched as Dean moved almost gracefully through the water despite the denim which no doubt was weighing him down quite considerably. This has to be a dream, or well a nightmare. I mean I could lose my job if he really broke out. Not to mention how completely unhealthy for everyone else it is to have a man with Dean's mental condition roaming around in public. So yeah I'm thinking this is a dream, has to be.

So I did what any rational, completely sane person would do.

I slapped myself.

And guess what? It fucking hurt!

At the same time that I hit myself, Dean must of come up for air because as the stars cleared I could her him chuckling, "You know, doing that can cause brain damage angel."

I flinched at that pet name.

"Dean, get out of the pool."

"It's nice though." The patient smiled and splashed the water at me.

"Dean." I jumped back and warned him

"Alright, alright, keep your shirt on." Dean snarked swimming over to the edge and put his hand up, "You're worse then Sammy."

I asked, "Well?"

"Come on help me up."

"Fine." I bit back my complaint about lazy bastards.

I held my hand out to him. Possibly the simplest gesture of help that I could make but when Dean grabbed me he latched onto my arm he grabbed around my forearm. I had only seconds to process before using his legs and my lack of balance to volt me ass over teakettle into the pool. A great splash filled my ears and lungs. I came up sputtering and to the sounds of thick laughter.

Hair hanging in my face and dripping wet I growled, "Dean, I am not amused."

"No but I am." The other man laughed, floating dangerously close to me. I pushed myself back so that I wasn't that close to him. It was too dangerous.

"Get out of the water, we are going in side."

"Inviting me in for 'coffee', huh" He waggled his eyebrows around coffee, "I don't know angel, do you take me for a slut?"

"Dean."

"Alright," The man paused as he lifted himself out of the pool, "jeez what flew up your ass an' died."

We padded wetly to the mudroom, slipping quietly inside. For those of you who don't know, a mud room has easily cleaned floors, in this case tile. it was designed to encourage people to remove sodden or dirty layers before entering the house In my first year of high school my mother had a drain added into the floor to make cleaning the floor very easy. Not like she cleans mind you. This became known as my room, when I was still living here. What I had a habit of getting down and dirty. And for the love of all that is holy get you mind out of the gutter on that one. Plus it was too easy. Quickly I started putting our wet clothes onto the ample hooks and racks to dry, that took care of one issue. The second was the clothing we had on; mine was easier to peel off because it was a lighter material. Forgetting for a moment that Dean was there I stripped myself completely bare and reached for a towel, when I turned back I noticed Dean was sitting on the bench.

Mouth open, eyes wide.

Blush working up his neck quickly, he muttered out one word. It came out in a whisper.

"Damn."

I covered my shame and had the decency to blush at what had just happened. Dean on the other hand seemed emboldened by it, he stood up all full of confidence and swagger. He cocked his hips slightly making his hip bone a little more prominent. With deft fingers he popped the button fly slowly, pausing after each one; eyes inviting me to assist him. I turned away and threw a pair of shorts at the stripping man.

"Throw your wet clothes in the laundry and come with me."

I instructed him as I watched him finish pulling the shorts up, they were a little snug on him but I can't blame it. I mean look at him and then look at me, he's got about twenty to thirty pounds on me. I watched the jeans hit the lid of the dryer and fell in; I turned it on. I walked slowly out towards my bedroom. I could hear Dean walking behind me but he was completely silent which was pretty nice. I didn't have to worry about him waking up the rest of the family some how. Once I managed to get us both into the bedroom I pointed to my bed, spitting out the command.

"You sleep there."

Dean's face scrunched up, "Well what about you?"

"I'll sleep in the chair."

That was the last thing that we said, I watched as Dean zombie walked his way over to the bed and flopped down. Almost instantly drifting off into la-la-land; his slight snoring quickly filling the air. I kept one eye open on the man's bare tanned back as he breathed in an out. It worked like a metronome slowly drawing me to sleep and before I knew it I was out. Wrapped up in the small desk chair it was painful and awkward but nothing else.

Except maybe a pain in my ass.

"OH DEAR GOD!"

I was awoken roughly by the sounds of a woman's scream. It startled me awake and plunged me off of the chair I had curled myself up in, with an undignified thump I looked around me room. Bleary eyed it took only a moment to realize that Dean was gone; the bed was empty and perfectly remade. It two seconds for a the little bits of my brain to catch up with one another but when they did only one thought hammered home. It was as graphic as the disembowelment with a spork but the humor from the idea was gone. He and my mother had come face to face and he killed her.

Grabbing something from my closet to cover my face, I stepped out into the hall. Instant confusion washed over me but I brushed it aside, the house smelled like breakfast; like the kind that we used to have on Christmas morning. Eggs, bacon, sausage, bagels and the list would go on. I hit the stairs when another scream pieced through the air. I'm not proud to say this but I panicked; I nearly fell all the way down the stairs, in my frantic need to protect both my family and Dean I grabbed a weapon. Then armed, I burst into the kitchen waving an umbrella like a drunken pirate.

The horror I saw was something I could never have imagined.

Wedged into the little nook area of the kitchen were four people; three of them rocking hard on their stools while the fourth was straddled between them and the oven. He was in the process of dolling out delicious smelling breakfast foods, a frilly pink apron covering his jeans and flannel shirt. It was an odd conjunction but at the same time oddly cute. Good lord I think I really need to think about where my mind wanders too. Seriously. Dean, my mother and brothers were all having breakfast.

And laughing.

What.

The.

Fuck.

"Dear lord," My mother placed her hand on my patients shoulder, "Dean if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to fatten me up."

"Well Rebbecca."

She interrupted with a giggle and it made me want to scream, "Becky please."

"Well Becky" Dean smiled smoothly, "my momma always said that the best way to impress someone then to cook for them."

Rafael laughed hard at my expense, "I'm surprised James isn't fat as a house with your cooking."

"Dean, can I talk to you alone for a second."

"Not really angel," The patient's voice was laced with a threat, "I can't leave the pancakes alone."

"Jesus, Jimmy where were you hiding this guy?" Rafael laughed and started to pick at the top most pancake.

Dean pouted and swatted his hand with a spatula, "I think the pour guy has been ashamed of me."

"Honey," I flinched at my mothers sweet tone, it sounded fake, "you know that we would never care that you are homosexual."

"Especially if this is the guy you bring home." Rafael muttered

Micheal's voice was tight around the question, "So, are you gay?"

I stood there dumbfounded.

"Here let me answer that for him." Dean moved easily over to me, he looked damn sexy. He placed a lips on mine.

"Damn."

Michael called out "Pay up Rafael."

"No fair he didn't answer the question."

"Just give me the damn money," Michael complained. I have to leave soon."

I stood there dumbfound again before, my brain caught up on "You guys bet on if I was gay or not."

"That was one of the many things we bet on." Michael smirked at me and I felt like I was twelve again, being left out of my older brothers jokes.

Once we were left alone, I grabbed roughly onto Dean's flannel arm and dragged him out of the kitchen, leaving behind the stack of food as well as my smiling relatives. Before the taller man could react I shoved Dean against the wall. I relished the flicker of fear that came up in his eyes. I might not be the biggest man but I'm damn stronger then I look. In those feel seconds before I spoke I could feel the heat and fear radiating off of him. I threw some gravel into my voice, mostly for effect. Hey I had a theater minor in college. have to get use out of it some how.

I growled violent, biting the words, "What are you playing at Dean?"

"They don't know you're not human do they."

"What?"

He smirked, "They don't know you're an-"

"Shut up."

"So this James Novak, he's your vessel huh?" Dean clucked his tongue in apathy, "I gotta admit he's kinda unimpressive for an angel of the lord Cas."

"What did you call me?"

"Cas." Dean smirked, "Castiel just sounds like you got a feather duster up your ass."

The blond's lips twisted open into a full on grin and my face took on a shocked expression. I almost wish he would take a picture; it would be something amazing to see. I'm sure I looked like the young man had punched me straight in the gut. Bug eyed and fish mouthed. Definitely attractive right.

"I…wait, I'm Castiel. I'm your angel."

The patient crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you drunk? Damn Cas. Look you appeased your meatsuit's family, so when can we go back and get Sammy away from."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hunting, the Apocalypse. Killing as many evil son's of bitches we can." Dean's face grew serious, "Any of this ringing a bell?"

I remembered reading bits of this in the notes but nothing to drag out that far; of course I have never gone in to check the walls in Dean's room. I'm sure that he had probably filled out at least one of the horridly colored walls with his slanted little writing. But even that wasn't the most prevalent thing running though my head; what was, was the fact Dean was here. The delusional patient had managed to break out of a

"Dean how did you even get here."

"We broke out." The patient said simply.

"What do you mean broke out?"

"Well," Dean gestured to himself, "we got out."

"What do you mean we!"

Dean smiled knowingly.

I bolted up in bed at the sound of a horse scream, it's words were barely understandable but the intention was completely clear. My mother had found my father had been returned to the house. Sighing I stumbled up and looked around my room. As far as I was able to tell I had been sprawled out across the bed all night. Grabbing a pair of sweats from my high school I padded softly out into the hall. She must have heard me because my mother's voice shrilly came out again. I knew what I was going to see; her with a cup of coffee and fondling the pool boy. I could tell she was impatient because she only gave me a few moments before shouting again.

"James Christopher Novak! Come down here!" There was a second pause followed by "Now!"

"Fuck."

* * *

_A/N: Did you guys really think I was going to make it that easy? Or did i? If you are starting to question reality and jimmy's perception, don't worry that the point. Anyway as a note. Who would be interested on seeing me do little snippets of Alan and Leven on something separate? I feel. Let me know and as always please review._

_- WordDemon_


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